Residential Life
by DarkestAngel13
Summary: David Karofsky is ready to get his life back on track. He'd like some friends, and maybe even a relationship in the not-too-distant future. But first he needs to get away from the cloud of the past that is hovering over him in Lima. Where to start? Convincing his dad that he should live in the dorms when he goes to college. This will be slash (malexmale). Dave Karofsky/OMC
1. The Question

Hello, Friends! This story is going to be rather different from my last, obviously. It is Glee, not Harry Potter and especially not Twilight!  
*****Please be aware that there will be some subtle references to attempted suicide that occurred in the past throughout this story. If you are familiar with Dave Karofsky's storyline on Glee, it will all be canon up until the end of season 3*****  
I do not own anything recognizable. I am in no way affiliated with Ryan Murphy or any other creators of Glee.  
I'm hoping to make this fic a summer project- something that won't take me 4 years to finish. I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to leave a review!

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Wednesday, July 17th.

David stood silently against the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. He listened to the hiss of running water from the faucet and the methodical scraping of a scrub brush on the bottom of a pot. He fiddled anxiously with the cuff of his sweatshirt sleeve before tucking both his hands up inside the elasticated fabric. He cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen. "Hey, Dad? Can I talk to you?"

Immediately the pot was settled back into the sink and the faucet was shut. Paul Karofsky grabbed a cloth from where it hung on the handle of the oven and began to dry his hands. "Of course, of course you can. Sure, let's have a seat."

The excessive attention to a conversation that had not yet even begun had David slipping his hands from his sleeves and fidgeting with front pocket instead. Finally looping his thumbs low in the pocket of the sweatshirt he sat down and said carefully, "It's about this, actually," he began, gesturing toward his father, the table between them and the general area.

Paul twisted the cloth between his now dry hands and nodded encouragingly. David decided to bite the bullet. "Dad I know you're really trying here, to show that you're supporting me and stuff but it's like I can't breath for five seconds anymore!"

Paul stifled a sharp intake of breath and David winced at his word choice, apologizing softly. He removed his hands from his pocket and placed them on the table. He picked awkwardly at a spot on the wood where the grain was a slightly darker color. It was from when he was nine. He had been painting model airplanes and had forgone laying down newspaper first because his mother had been out of town for the weekend. When she returned home he had had to fess up to the spilled paint that never quite washed off. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the smudge.

He sighed. "I feel, really… _smothered_ right now. It's like every time I sleep late you come knocking to see if I'm okay or more depressed or something, and if I go out somewhere you're texting me so often that I might as well have just stayed home, and I appreciate that you have my back, Dad. You have no idea what that means to me. But I really feel like I need time to just focus on me, okay? I'm _okay._ I'm _going_ to be_, okay._"

Paul breathed in deeply through his nose and let the air whoosh out again through puffed cheeks. He stood with a swipe of the cloth across the table and returned to the sink. He flipped up the handle of the faucet and began washing again. "So what would you like to have happen?" He asked.

"Well, I was talking to Dr. Bevotti."

"I should hope so, I've been driving you there every Thursday," Paul said humorously.

"Dad I want to dorm at Bowling Green."

There was a noticeable pause in the scraping of the scrub brush. After a pregnant pause, Paul spoke. "I don't know, David…"

"Dad, _please_. I've been doing all kinds of research and people keep saying that commuting students don't get the same college experience that dorm kids do. I mean they get the education, yeah but there's like a whole other side to college when you're in the dorms. The social stuff and being on campus more and meeting people, and- and, _relationships._" The teenager grasped for excuses, gesturing minutely with his hands.

"Relationships?" Paul raised an eyebrow.

David ducked his head, his hands moved back to his pocket. "Not like that. Well maybe not right away." he clarified. "But Dad how am I supposed to even make friends if all I do is drive an hour to campus, sit through lectures and then come home every night? And group projects would be a pain in the ass if I had to drive all the way back just to meet up when I could have just been on campus anyway. And if I make a team then what I just drive back and forth for practice all the time? I'm just… feeling stuck here."

Paul plucked a plate from the suds in the sink and wiped it clean, not saying anything. David began to feel guilty before recalling the session he had been at the previous Thursday.

"Dad, I'm not going to feel bad about wanting this for myself. I'm eighteen and I should want to get out and experience college and being on my own and stuff. And if I'm not here for part of the year, then-" he stopped talking abruptly, not even aware that his brain was taking the conversation there.

"Then what?" Paul prompted his son with a sigh.

"Then maybe Mom would come home in the months I'm at school, and I dunno maybe things would be easier between us all if I'm just here for short breaks, or she could go back to Aunt Tina's when I do come home." David mumbled. He twirled a loose thread from the inside of his sweatshirt firmly around his index finger and felt it snag on the corner of his thumb. He picked it with a nail until it broke, unwinding from his finger. He put his hands back on the table.

"Is that why you want this?" Paul asked.

"No!" David was quick to say. "I mean, it might work out as a favorable option for you two. Maybe without me here, I mean without me_ at home,_ you guys could come to a sort of understanding or whatever. I really do want to dorm, Dad. I've been talking to Dr. B about it practically all summer and he says if I want I can change appointments with him til Saturdays and drive home for it or maybe even just stop the sessions and I can just call him or whatever if I want. I just want to be normal again, Dad. Everything that happened… if just follows me here. If I go to the store, or the gym, or if I see any of the guys when I stop for a coffee or whatever. It's… I don't like it. Dr. B told us to aim for things that are going to make me happy, and I feel like I've got a good shot at that if I live at Bowling Green."

Paul rinsed the last glass, dumping it upside down to get any leftover suds out and then set it aside on the counter. He flipped the faucet off again and shook his hands over the sink instead of drying them. He looked carefully at his son who was still seated at the kitchen table. The young man's form was big, but solid. He had muscles in his arms and torso and still a bit of chub to his neck and face, but he looked healthy overall. He'd been running mostly in the past few months; Early in the morning before the summer sun reached its peak and then at dusk when the streets began to cool again. The color had returned to his complexion, and Paul knew that his son wasn't in the same dark place he had been almost a year prior.

"You're sure?" He asked finally.

"Yeah," David answered.

"If it's not working out, David, I won't want you there trying to stick it out. You'd call me?" Paul asked firmly.

"Yeah, I swear. And I told Bevotti I think I'd like to keep in contact, just through phone calls or whatever. Talking to him helps. And I would call home, Dad. I wouldn't just… leave you."

Paul nodded. He placed both his hands on the railing of the back of one of the kitchen chairs and leaned against it. "When are the housing applications due?"

A smile, a real, honestly happy one, broke across David's face. "I've got the information on my laptop. Lemme go get it." He jumped up from the table and took off out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. Paul nodded again, trying to convince himself that this was a good decision. He smiled as Dave called "Thanks Dad!" from upstairs, and knew that it was.

* * *

Note: Okay obviously an intro chapter. Basically I want this story to take place after Dave graduates high school. The show never gave us information on what he does about schooling after his attempt so I'm going to just sort of gloss over that. Basically, high school is behind him and he's ready to get the ball rolling on college. Hope you guys can get into this! I've always been sad that Dave's plot got dropped so abruptly. I'd like to know what's going on with him!

Also, Bowling Green State University is real, and is located approximately an hour away from Lima, Ohio. You can visit their website online.

Follow me on Tumblr! perpetuating-pez  
Please review!  
darkestAngel13


	2. The Tampon Bully

*Disclaimer, I own nothing you recognize*

I know Dave Karofsky is sort of a controversial character in this fandom. Some love him dearly, some hate his guts. Please don't send me hate messages based on your opinion. If you don't like my story that's one thing, but I hope you guys will just take the fic as simply a story and not some deep character analysis or whatever. This is just for fun!

* * *

Saturday, August 24th

David trailed awkwardly behind his father as they strolled into Target. He was playing closer attention to his phone than anything else and cursed when his character was devoured by monkeys yet again.

"What's that?" his father asked.

"Temple Run," he answered offhandedly, stuffing the phone into his pocket. "I lost anyway, so whatever." He snatched a printed list from the babyseat of the cart and looked it over.

"So basically I'm just looking for anything that I'd usually buy if I knew I had to pack for a vacation," he concluded as he read down the list of toiletries.

"Not just." Paul corrected. He flipped the list over to reveal recommendations for furnishings and the like.

"They don't give you any furniture?"

"Usually just standard stuff issued by the college. Desk, bed, chair, lamp. So here's what we'll do. I'll take the cart and go look at a dorm sized refrigerator, see what other things I might come across. You go get a basket and grab smaller stuff. Shampoo or whatever. Buy big sizes, it'll need to last you."

Dave hm'ed his understanding and wandered off, snatching an abandoned basket from the end of an aisle as he walked. He soon found himself in the 'shopping stupor,' staring aimlessly at a long line of men's body wash and deodorant brands. Finally, unsure why it had taken him so long to come to a conclusion, he snatched the stuff he normally kept in his shower and tossed it in the basket. He meandered down the aisle and across to another, eyeing the contents of the shelves that he ambled past. Toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, an extra toothbrush, a cool little do-hickey that capped your toothbrush and sanitized it too, shampoo, spray-gel, razors and shave cream, a generic first aid kit, he stopped just short of running into another customer that was the same height as him when he came to the end of an aisle.

"uh, sorry," he mumbled, trying to duck around the guy.

"Nice basket, Karofsky, got a vacation planned? Not coming back though, are you?" the teenager spoke sarcastically.

"Nah, Man. College actually. Moving in next week, but whatever," Dave mumbled. He tried to act as though the conversation was much less hostile than it actually was. He made to step around again but an arm blocked his way.

"They're letting you in?"

"Yeah, I got my acceptance letter before summer started. Look, Simon can you just let me though?" David asked, hoping to remain calm and praying that this wouldn't escalate.

"They making you share a room?"

"Yes, it's a corridor style residence hall for freshman." He began walking forward, and Simon backed up with him, keeping an arm in his way.

"Poor fucker getting stuck with you for a roommate," the kid taunted.

Sick of it, David reached out and grabbed at the arm blocking his path, intending to swing it down out of the way, but Simon recoiled harshly and quickly.  
"Don't fuckin touch me, you sicko!" he raised his voice, though not enough that it could be considered shouting.

Dave opened both of his hands, palm up. "I'm not the one who's got a problem here," was all he said.

"Yeah, whatever, Man," Simon wrinkled his face at him and nudged his chin up threateningly. He began to walk away, knocking his shoulder roughly into David's. Then he reached out and grabbed a pink box from the shelf, tossing it swiftly into the basket that David still held. "Don't forget your tampons, Lady," he smirked and took off down the aisle without looking back.

David breathed and counted to ten. He fished the tampons from his basket and settled them back on the shelf. He turned the corner of the aisle and paused momentarily at a display of condoms along part of the wall. Beside the display were several shelves of gels and lubricants, then the pregnancy tests. Dave snorted. His hand hovered over a box of Trojans and he looked over his shoulder, feeling like he was five years younger. He looked at the box again but didn't take it. He shook his head mentally and left the pharmaceutical area of the store, wondering what department his father would be in by now.

When David finally found Paul, the cart was already well stocked with a mini fridge/freezer, clothing hangers, packing bins, stacking shelves, notebooks, a variety of other office supplies, a desk lamp, and a poster. Not mentioning the tampon bully, David pointed to the poster.

"What's that?"

"Blackhawks- thought you might like it."

"Who's on it?"

"Patrick Sharp."

"Excellent choice," David grinned appreciatively.

Paul cuffed the back of his head. "I only indulged you because he's got the whole uniform on. And don't think I would be buying you bikini pin-ups if you were straight."

David pretended to be very serious. "What, Dad? I only admire his athleticism and skill. Besides, no one needs pin-ups anymore. That's what the internet is for."

Paul closed his eyes. "I don't want to know." He settled the basket of Dave's toiletries on top of the cart and maneuvered it down an aisle, changing the subject. "Do you need an alarm clock?"

"No Dad, I've got my phone."

"Calculator?"

"No Dad, I've got my phone."

"They've got homework planner calendar things over here, David. Fifty percent off."

"That's because everyone just writes stuff in their phone now, Dad."

They passed the electronics section where there was a bin of $5 CDs. "Any music you wanted?"

"I'll download it on my phone."

"You know, when I went to school we had the entire damn car packed with crap and now you go and carry it all in your pocket."

"Yeah, Dad, and we don't have to ride dinosaurs anymore either."

"Hey!"

"My phone can't microwave stuff," David swiftly changed direction.

"Microwave it is." Paul chuckled and pulled the overfilled cart back toward the appliance section. "When I moved into my dorm at OSU your grandfather told me he had a gift for me," David's father explained as they perused the makes and models of microwaves.

"Hm?"

"Yup. A deck of cards. He told me I needed to bring a 'friend-maker' to school with me."

"What happened?"

"All the guys on my floor thought I was the weird anti-social kid that played solitaire in his room with the door open."

"No friends?"

"None that a deck of cards won me," Paul admitted. "But eventually I got to talking with the other boys, we found things in common, kept it touch with some. I'd say I certainly had friends while I was at school."

"How?"

"You know what a real friend-maker is?"

"What?"

"Be the guy that has food. Not all the time, because then they start schmoozing, but that first weekend the one who gets conversation going is the one that has all the food."

Dave checked the price on a decent sized black microwave and then reached back into the shelves for one that didn't have a crushed box. Balancing it in his arms he shuffled into a squat until he could shove it onto the rack beneath their overloaded cart.

"I don't really want to resort to bribery to make a friend, Dad."

Paul nodded understandingly. "You get your roommate assigned yet?"

"Yeah, they sent an email this morning."

"Recognize the name?"

"Nah, Dad. Everyone from both my schools that I know of is either staying super local or getting lost. BGSU is like an hour away and people in this town are either too scared to leave a 10 minute radius from home or desperate to get as far as possible."

Paul smiled. "I'm proud of you, Son."

"I know."

"So what's the roommate's name, then?"

"uh, Nicholai something. Goes by Nico. I thought about finding him on Facebook. Might do that later."

Paul was about to ask something else but Dave cut him off, taking control of the cart and steering it toward the front of the store.  
"Dad I'm just feeling kind of tired of talking for now, ok? I think I'd like to just go home and start organizing or packing stuff up."  
Paul looked him over carefully but nodded, willing to end the conversation for the time being.

* * *

Note: Another short background chapter. I'm estimating around 20 total chapters for the fic- I don't think it will be horribly drawn out.

Patrick Sharp is a particularly attractive player for the Chicago Blackhawks hockey team. You should Google him.

Please review!

-darkestAngel13


	3. Moving In and Coming Out

*Disclaimer* I don't own anything.

So, here's the third chapter. I know at least one person is reading, so I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Thursday, August 29th

Dave threw open the window in hopes of coaxing in a nonexistent breeze to air out the stale room. They had propped the door open with a desk chair and had made several trips from the parking lot, hauling bins and boxes and two large rolling duffle bags- one containing his clothes, one containing sports equipment, particularly his hockey pads, skates, and stick. Nicholai, or Nico, or whatever, had yet to make an appearance, which Dave was grateful for. The whole 'we're going to be stuck in this tiny box of a room for a year, let's make it work' talk could at least be put off until after he and his father had gotten his stuff squared away. Plus, Dave got first pick of the beds.

"Do you want me to help unpack any of this?" Paul asked his son, easing the refrigerator off of a flat cart they were using.

"Nah, we might wind up moving stuff around. It'll be easier if it's not all set out already." Dave decided. He used his keys to slit open a box that had been taped shut, finding it to be full of video games and DVDs. "Do you know where that metal bookshelf thing is?"

Paul eyed the cluttered half of the room. "Might still be in the trunk. I know your tv is in there too. Why don't you get some sheets or something on your bed and I'll get the last of it." Paul wiped his forehead and left the room again, the wheels of the cart rattling noisily in the hallway.

Dave sighed, going back to the window to press his face closer to the slightly cooler screen. The Resident Assistant that checked him into the room promised that the Air Conditioning would be turned on within the next day or so, but warned him he might want to invest in a fan in the meanwhile. Dave decided a fan would be an excellent idea. Maybe Nico would bring one.

There was a general murmur of excitement in the air outside. It was Freshman Move-In day, though still early. They had left Lima at 8am, hoping to get ahead of traffic and arrived in time for the start of check in at 9:30. His room overlooked a bit of green lawn and the path that led up to the entrance of the residence hall. He watched the people milling around, calling out greetings and _how was your summer_'s. The sound of rickety wheels across pavement echoed through the area.

It was now nearing 10:30 and his stomach growled. He turned away from the window, pulling at the neck of his shirt to create a breeze around his torso and eyed the boxes, wondering which of them was most likely to contain his sheets.

Not long after, Dave heard the ping of the service elevator down the hall and then the sound of the rattling cart wheels once again. He shook the pillow case in his hands, forcing his pillow into it with great effort, and then tossed it atop his dark blue comforter. Strangely, the look of his made bed caused the room to suddenly look much more livable. After a bit of claustrophobic maneuvering, he and his father managed to settle his tv on top of his desk, set his bed on risers and push the fridge as well as a dresser and the metal bookshelf beneath it, and stack the remainder of the boxes in his closet to be unpacked later.

Dave's stomach rumbled again and he checked the time on his phone. "It's 11:30. Want to find some lunch?"

"You read my mind."

***

Both Karofsky men were exceedingly grateful for the AC in their car and blasted it at full while they drove around the college town. "It looks like your options are any of twelve pizza joints, a diner, and that Chinese place two blocks back. What are you thinking?" Paul asked his son.

Dave checked the time again. If the service at the diner was slow, they might be gone long enough that his roommate would arrive and unpack before they got back.  
"Let's try the diner."

Admittedly, the food wasn't bad in the least bit. The waitress looked a bit frazzled by the lunchtime rush, but she was polite and attentive.  
"Prices aren't too high here, David," Paul noted. "you could come by here if you get sick of the food in the dining halls too often. It's not a long walk from the dorm."

"Yeah." Dave ran two french fries through the ketchup on his plate and ate them. His leg was jumping rapidly beneath the table, but Paul didn't draw attention to the jitters.

"Maybe if we are smart with savings for a while we can look into getting you your own car next year."

"We can't afford that."

"Used car wouldn't be awful."

David felt as though he hit a wall mentally. "This was a stupid idea, Dad." He forced his leg to stop shaking and a tremor began in his hand instead. He clenched his fist angrily and pressed it against the tabletop. "_I hate this!" _He gritted between his teeth.

"Hey, hey, calm down, Buddy, breath for a bit." Paul told him. "Don't be so hasty. This is _not _a dumb idea. You're doing the right thing by coming here. You wanted a fresh start? You got it. You told me yourself that you don't know anyone from home that's coming here, right? You don't have to do anything you don't want to do when you live here, alright? You're going to be just fine."

"I can't stop shaking, I hate it. I'm not even scared, Dad."

"That's not your fault. Next time you talk to Bevotti ask him about adjusting dosages."

"It's already a really low dose."

"Well, maybe it's more that you need."

Dave took a sip of his drink and tried to focus on his breathing. "I'm not like, scared, Dad. I just know I want to be able to be honest about myself here, and I feel like I've never been able to do that before, and it's a little nerve-wracking."

Paul nodded encouragingly. "You're already doing an admirable job. I want you to keep an eye out on campus here for the services that are available to you. There's a whole ton of information in the folder they gave you at check-in, so look through it and don't just toss it away. There's a counseling department if you feel that calling Dr. Bevotti's not enough or something. Your RA has a safe-space sticker on her door, David. Don't be afraid to introduce yourself to her. And if Nico turns out to be a problem, we'll get you moved, but I don't want you living in a single dorm, David. It's hard enough on me knowing that you're not going to be in our house I do not want you on your own here. Understand me?"

Dave felt the tremor in his hand slow and nodded, picking up his reuben sandwich again. "I'll be ok," he said quietly.

"I know you will be. Now, did you have a look at all at the clubs on campus?"

"Not completely. When I applied I made sure they had hockey. I'm sure there will always be pickup games too once I've got some friends around."

"Don't hesitate to get involved."

"I know, Dad. They told us that probably fifty times at orientation. I won't just be sitting in my room all day."

"You sure? 'Cuz that's what you did all summer."

"I went out," Dave said defensively.

"Yeah, to a bar." Paul retorted. "Don't think I don't know that."

Dave's jaw dropped. "Did you follow me?"

"No. I can't say that I was even 100% positive until you just confirmed that for me, but honestly David you started dressing differently than I'd ever seen before and then you'd be out from 9 til midnight or later. It was either a bar or something else and I was not going to get involved."

"I'm—"

"You're eighteen, the law can't stop you and neither can I. As long as you weren't drinking, which I hope to God you weren't because you drove home each night, I didn't mind."

"Is that why you were texting me so much? Because you knew I was at the bar?"

"Son I'm your father. I'm going to want to make sure you're okay regardless of where you were. I would have been texting you even if I knew you were at the park or something."

"We're not going to have to have a talk about this or anything, right?"

"Honestly I'd like to know a bit about where you were particularly or why you were there, but I won't pry if you'd rather I didn't."

Dave drained his drink and grabbed another fry, feeling his dad's eyes on him. "It was Scandals," he admitted. "The gay bar in West Lima."

Paul didn't look entirely surprised, but he didn't look impressed either.

"It's not really all that scandalous, actually," Dave continued. "I basically just went and played pool and got to talk to people- guys. Watched other people get drunk and occasionally had some beer but I knew I never wanted to have to call a cab, so no, I wasn't going to get drunk and I wasn't being stupid. I just liked knowing I could be there and no one was judging me."

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. He did anyway. "Did you, uh, meet anyone?"

Dave shook his head. "Not really. Talked to a few but usually just a 'hey, want to shoot some pool' kind of thing. I guess I could call a few guys there friends, but most of them are kind of older. Like 20's and 30's or whatever."

Paul nodded. "Alright. So you got out this summer. We can agree on that I guess. Just keep in mind that even if it's not happening right away, you'll find your place here, right?"

"Right."

"Good. You done?"

Dave ran a finger through the excess salt on his plate and stuck it in his mouth. "Yeah."

"Me too. Let's get going."

The two pulled themselves from the booth they were in and made their way to the cashier at the front of the diner.

There was an emotional goodbye that David sort of hopes no one witnessed when Paul dropped him back off at his building. He did a quick sweep of the car to triple check that he did indeed have everything and patted his pockets to make sure his room key was still there. And then Paul pulled him in for a hug there on the sidewalk, and Dave was astonished to realize that he was significantly taller than his dad. When had that happened? He thumped his hand on his father's shoulder twice and felt the same in return, and then pulled away. He bit his lips, not sure what to say.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Be good," Paul admonished. "I don't want any calls from the police station for partying or something, you hear?"

"Yeah, Dad. Not like I can mix much alcohol with these meds anyway."

Paul smiled. "Call if you need anything."

"I will."

"I'd better get back home. Take care."

"Bye, Dad."

And that was that. Paul got back in the car and drove off with two beeps of the horn in farewell, and Dave strolled into his dorm building. He paused at the entrance to hold the door for a mother helping her daughter move in and smiled at them, wishing them good luck with the process. He took the stairs rather than the elevator to his third-floor room and counted doorways until he came to 306. When he reached the door, he came face to face with a student of similar height who was approaching from the opposite direction. The boy was solidly built, with very dark skin and his hair tied back in dreadlocks. A pair of Dr. Dre Beats headphones were slung around his neck.

"You David?"

"yeah," he nodded.

"Hey, I'm Nico. Guess we're roommates."

David shook the guy's hand and allowed him to unlock the door. It swung open, revealing the room chock-full of both their things.

"Did your parents help move you in?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, they just left."

"My dad too."

There was an awkward semi silence, and Dave could hear the tinny sound of music from Nico's headphones echoing in the room.

"What are you listening to?" he asked.

"Not much, really. My buddy mixes shit and sent it to me to listen to but I gotta tell him this isn't his best."

Dave nodded. They each took a seat on their own beds, not really knowing where to take the conversation.  
"Sooo," Nico rambled. "Where's home?"

"uh, Lima. You?"

"Columbus. I had a basketball game in Lima once."

"Really? What school?"

"I dunno Man, it was like two years ago."

"McKinley?"

"I dunno."

"Oh. I never played basketball in high school anyway."

"What's your sport?"

"In school, football. But I've been on a town hockey team practically since I could stand. I'm hoping to join the club team here."

"Nice."

A sudden knock on the door had them both perking up.

"What!" Nico shouted at the door.

Dave laughed and bounced off his bed, crossing the short distance to the door and pulling it open. A girl was standing there with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. She was wearing a blue polo shirt that said "Resident Assistant" on one side and short jean shorts.  
"Hey!" She greeted happily when Dave stepped aside to let her in. "My name's Courtney, I'm going to be your RA this year. Enjoying the awkward first roommate conversation?"

Both boys sort of grimaced.

"Totally ok," she assured them. "I swear it's supposed to be weird. People who are like besties with their roommate in the first second usually wind up fighting over something stupid by the first week, so it's all good if you're not a hundred and ten percent comfortable with each other yet. Now, I know I'm the one who signed in Nico, so you must be David?"

Dave gave her a half smile. "Yeah, or just Dave. Whatever's easier. Nice to meet you."

"You too. Okay, so to help you guys out with this process, I have two forms for you. The first is one to give back to me and all the directions are on it so just read it over. Basically if you have any issues you think someone should be aware of that's where you're going to list it. These things are super confidential, so don't think I'm going to go spreading rumors with the rest of the staff. The other paper is for you two to work out any agreements or whatever, and it's basically just a getting to know you survey. Do you have any questions?"

Nico looked up from his phone, still half lounging on his bed. "Nah, I'm good."

"Sounds fine to me," Dave told her. He took the papers, passed two of them to Nico, and went back to his bed.

"Alright, just slip the forms under my door when you're done," Courtney told them. "Oh, and just my suggestion but you don't have to follow it- if you leave your door propped open for a few days, it's easier to meet the rest of the people on the floor. Want me to close it anyway?"

The two boys looked at each other for confirmation. "You can leave it propped I guess," Nico decided.

She did just that and left them alone again with a "See you around! Oh! And there's a mandatory floor meeting tonight at 9!" as she moved on down the hall.

"'Kay," the two chorused back.

"Man I can't stand bubbly girls," Nico grumbled.

"She was nice at least," Dave shrugged. "Hopefully she won't be a bitch about things."

"Yeah. A'ight you want to do this survey thing? It's called 'Falcon to Falcon.' I guess we're Falcons now, man."

Dave made a screeching bird-like noise and Nico huffed a laugh.

"Okay, let me find a pen somewhere." Dave rifled through a few boxes before coming up with a brand new pack of Bic pens and a notebook to rest the paper on. "Need one?"

"Nope." Nico pulled a pen from the depths of his big shorts.

"Okay question one: Are you a morning person or a night person?"

"Night," they both answered.

"Good, because if you're up earlier than ten for no good reason we're gunna have a problem."

Dave smiled "I definitely like sleeping late. What's your schedule like? My earliest class isn't til noon on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And 1:15 Monday, Wednesday, Friday."

"My brain doesn't work during the day time, Man. I scheduled all night classes."

Dave nodded. "Alright but you do sleep eventually, right? I'm usually not up later than 1 or 2."

"Course I sleep eventually! I ain't no Edward Cullen vampire or some shit."

Dave laughed again. "Second question: How do you and your roommate want to settle maintenance charges? i.e: A broken mirror."

Nico looked up at him. "That's the dumbest question ever. Man, if you break something you pay for it and if I break something I pay for it. Good?"

"Good."

"Good. Question 3: How many hours per day do you plan to devote to study? Do you study in silence or does sound distract you?"

"Uh, I don't know," David said awkwardly. "I don't really plan to have like a study schedule. Basically if I need to study something I'll do it and if I don't I'll have free time. You?"

"Same I guess. I've got a lot of music, that going to bother you?"

"Probably not. We could agree to just not be hostile about it though. I mean if I'm being too loud just tell me and you do the same."

"Man you're an easy roommate."

"Glad you think so," David answered awkwardly.

They made it down the entire list of 22 questions, discussing everything from guests to hygienic habits to agreeing not to steal each other's stuff, unless it was just borrowing it for a second_ "but that rule doesn't apply to toothbrushes or deodorant 'cuz that's just nasty, Man."_

Finally at the bottom of the paper was a glaring P.S. that brought the slight tremor in David's hand to a rapid tapping against his knee:

** Something I think you should know about me is…**

Dave looked at his phone. He and Nico had been talking without incident for about an hour. He seemed nice enough, and was the sort of person that David could see himself being good friends with. He had a decision to make though. Either let this continue or come clean. And by coming clean, he meant, "come out."

"Uhm, could I talk to you about something kind of serious? I mean it shouldn't be a big deal and I kind of really hope it won't be, but uhm, it's kind of different than talking about our class schedules or whatever."

Nico eyed him strangely. "Do you snore real loud? Or are you talking about like, 'private time' or whatever?" he asked, putting the words in air quotes. "'Cuz man I'm thinking as long as you're alone in the room and just lock the door or whatever then I don't need to know about it."

Dave laughed, feeling a little less nervous. "Nah, that's not what I meant, but now that you brought it up I guess that's a fair policy."

"Yeah and just text me or whatever if you want me gone for a bit, a'ight? I don't need to be walking in on nothing…"

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "You too I guess. But uh, I really do want to talk to you about this so we can get it out there in case there's going to be an issue or whatever."

Nico got down off his bed and moved to his desk chair, turning it and then sitting on it backwards so that he still faced David. "Yeah, alright, say whatever you gotta say."

Dave breathed deeply, digging his fingers into the fabric of his shorts to cease their infuriating fidgeting. "I've uh, never had to discuss this with anyone before on my own terms, so I'm sorry for being weird. I'm just, uh,"

"Dude you're whiter than usual."

"Shut up, I know. Okay- it's like, you're black, right?"

Nico looked down at his hands and raised his eyebrows in mock-shock. "Fuck yeah!" He agreed.

Dave chuckled again. "Yeah, and it would be kind of a dick thing to do if I came in here and was not cool with that, right? 'cuz you can't change that about you, right?" He went over to the door and closed it, not ready to share this conversation with the rest of the hall yet.

Nico nodded, giving him a look like he had six heads. "Man do you always have little heart to heart chats like this because it's feeling super gay."

Dave sucked in a breath silently. "I _am _gay."

Nico scrambled up from his seat and stood, taking a step toward Dave. "Man, I'm sorry that so wasn't cool. I didn't mean it like that," he was quick to say. "Bro, you ok?"

Dave's hands were shaking pretty hard. He moved them to under his knees and squeezed them. "I need you to tell me if this is something you're okay with or not because if it's not then I need to talk to Courtney about moving, Nico."

The teenager in question hesitated for only a second before patting Dave awkwardly on the shoulder. "Nah, man, whatever. You be you, a'ight? I never met a gay dude before, so like, that's new or whatever but _stop shakin', _ I'm not gunna kill you, Dave."

"I'm not scared, it's medicine that gives me tremors. It just gets worse when I'm worked up." David explained quietly. "You seriously cool about it?"

Nico walked back over to his chair and sat down again. "Man I don't know shit about gay people but I'm not stupid and you looked whiter than white trying to tell me that. Good for you, man. Being brave or whatever. You know how many black kids I saw moving in today? One. And it was when I looked in the mirror in the bathroom. There's not a bunch on this campus. So I figure if I get to be different then you better have something a little different about you too so I don't stand out too much."

Dave cracked a grin. "We could write it on our door. 'Room 306: Beware of Colored Kid and Gay Guy.'"

Nico smirked. "Let's not do that," he said, shaking his head. "You okay?"

David smiled. "Yeah, I'm good. I really appreciate it, Nico. I've been dealing with some shit at home and I'm just glad to be here, so it's about 100 times easier that I know I'm going to be out. I don't want to be in the closet here."

Nico nodded.  
They were silent for a while during which David thanked every deity he didn't necessarily even believe in. Then his roommate spoke up again. "So are you like, Girl-Gay, or Gay-Gay?"

David's face screwed up in confusion. "What?"

Nico split into peals of laughter. "I don't have a clue, Man! I don't even know what I'm trying to ask. Whatever. Just don't come to me if you ever need dating advice 'cuz that would not go well."

"Deal. Hey it's about 5 o'clock… want to go get dinner?"

"You asking me out, Karofsky?"

Dave chucked a pillow at him, laughing. "Fuck you, no. Come on let's go knock on some doors and see if anyone else is hungry."

* * *

Note: Okay so that's chapter 3. This year a friend of mine came out to his room mate halfway through the year. Nico is based on that room mate- his manner of speaking, his reaction, and all. He seems a little rough and talks without thinking first, but he's actually a really sweet guy.

Please review! And remember you can find me on Tumblr.


	4. The First Day of Classes

Hello again, thanks for reading and reviewing so far! I hope you all continue to enjoy and/or give me feedback. I know Karofsky isn't everyone's favorite person to fanfic, but I have a soft spot for him. *Disclaimer, I don't own all this.* Thanks guys!

* * *

Still Thursday, August 29th

"So basically toss this beach ball to someone in the circle, and when they catch it whatever color their right thumb is on has a question that they need to answer. Tell us three facts about you, and then answer that question, ok?"

Courtney the RA passed the large, colorful beach ball back and forth between her hands. The group of freshmen around her nodded in understanding.

There were twenty five of them in all crammed into the common room of the third floor; twelve guys, twelve girls, and Courtney. Some students were squeezed into chairs or perched on tables, others had taken a seat on the carpet, while still others stood around awkwardly.

"Okayy… let's all stand up and make a circle, I guess," Courtney prompted them. "Come on, guys, icebreakers should be fun!"

There was a general murmur of disagreement, but soon all of them were stood in some semblance of a circle, awaiting their turn for the ball to be tossed at them.

"Hey, I'm Dylan. I like video games, I have a dog, I want to study something with computers, maybe like designing videogames or something." Dylan looked down at where his thumb rested on a green section of the ball. "Green?" He asked, looking at Courtney. She checked the piece of paper in her hand.

"What would you do if you won the lottery?"

Dylan shrugged. "Uhh, probably like buy a boat or something. But I'd probably give some of it away to charity 'cuz I think it's kind of what you're supposed to do if you randomly get rich."

He chucked the ball across the circle to a girl who glaringly pretended to have no coordination and dropped it, giggling in a manner that she seemed to believe was cute. "oops!" She bent exaggeratedly to pick it up, and Dave exchanged a glance with his roommate, who was tapping his foot in boredom. They both rolled their eyes.

"My name's Rebecca. I love anything that's fluffy, because they're so cute and fun to snuggle with, and I dance and do cheerleading, and I was the manager of the boy's football team at my high school. Red," she told Courtney.

"If you were on a plane that was crashing, who would you want to have sitting next to you?"

Rebecca put her finger to her lips, pursing them, while twirling her hair with her other hand. "I think, like, Ryan Gosling. Oh wait no. Channing Tatum. Because if I was going to die, I'd want to be making out with someone that I know is attractive, and like, if someone gross was sitting next to me I'd be like, ew- that's not a beautiful last thing to look at." She laughed again and no one else really did.

She threw the ball across the circle again, where another girl caught it. This process continued for a while, and Dave quickly began to catalog the people he would be living with for the next year. There were some fairly normal people, like Dylan, and a few obnoxious ones, like Rebecca, who seemed to just annoy him already and there was no helping it. David was reminded of Rachel Berry: sometimes you just know, right away, that there's no way you want to get stuck having a conversation with that person. There just won't be any substance to it.

Eventually the ball tossed to him, he caught it and his thumb landed on a portion of the ball that was decorated with polka-dots. "I'm David, Dave," he began. "I really like sports, especially hockey, but I play football too so if anyone want to have a pickup game hit me up… uhm, I'm from Lima, Ohio, and," the thought of just saying it, coming out then and there like it was no big deal crossed his mind for less than a second, but instead he finished with "and I'm here to study Inclusive Early Childhood Education. It's polka dotted," he told Courtney.

"One quirky thing about you is," she announced.

Dave thought for a second. He wouldn't exactly consider his sexuality to be a quirk. He decided this was neither the time nor place for coming out after all. However, "Uhm, I take a kind of medication that gives me tremors- it makes me twitchy or fidgety sometimes. So if you see me do that it's not weird or anything so don't think I'm going to have a seizure or whatever. I guess that's a quirk."

He passed the ball to Nico on his left. "Cop-out," his roommate muttered.

"Shut up," David grinned. He slipped his hand into his pocket as he felt a tic begin in his fingers.

* * *

Monday, September 2nd. (First Day of Classes)

Dave was grateful that the communal bathroom on the third floor contained separate shower cubicles separated by lockable doors. He had feared the idea of spigots protruding from walls in a large open area and a dozen other young men stripping down and soaping up each morning. As a matter of fact, he had a series of dreams about that very scenario, and he had yet to decide if they should be classified as nightmarish or very, very good. Regardless, well, it was nice to have his privacy. He packed his shampoo and bodywash back into the mesh bag that held them, slung his now damp towel over his shoulder and made his way out of the shower area and bathrooms- the sound of his flip flops slapped against the tile floor and echoed as he walked. At the entrance to his dorm, he reached into his bag, only to find that he had left his key sitting on his desk. Wishfully, he tried the doorknob, but it was of course locked.

Nico was going to be pissed, Dave thought, as he began to knock softly.

It was 9:25, and he had plenty of time before his first class, but he had planned to get a late breakfast at the dining hall and explore the campus for a short while before going to class. Being stranded in the hallway on their first day of instruction, only in a pair of shorts and still damp from the shower was not part of his scheduled plan.

"Nico," he called through the door, knocking again. "Wake up, Man."

Just then a door opened down the hall. Dave cringed when Rebecca flowed out of it, wrapped in a _very _short terry cloth robe and toting an entire basket of bathing supplies.

"Morning, David!" she called at him, coming entirely too close and speaking entirely too loudly for him to appreciate her presence. "Locked out?"

"Hey, and yeah I guess so. I know Nico's in there but,"

"You should come to my room," she invited.

"I don't have any clothes," was David's first ingenious answer.

She giggled. "I can see that," she eyed his naked torso. He immediately began to feel self-conscious about the pouch to his belly. He had shed a lot of weight recently, and he wouldn't consider himself to be flabby but he certainly didn't have Mike Chang abs or anything even close. He tugged the towel over his shoulder a little lower so that it covered more of his chest and stomach on one side.

"Stop it, you're so cute," she continued, obviously having noticed his attempt to hide. She took a step closer and reached out to bat at him, whether to touch his skin or move his towel Dave didn't know, but he stepped back instantly.

"I'm not interested," he told her with a shake of his head.

"Oh come on, it's college. _Everyone's_ interested," she answered sardonically.

"I'm not," he insisted.

She huffed, jutting her hip out. "Virgin?" She asked.

"Gay," he answered simply.

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Dave jerked his head up and down once. Shocked that the truth had come forward so abruptly.

She looked at him calculatingly. "Word," she finally said. "Waste of a naked guy locked out of his room, I guess. See any hot straight ones send them my way." She twiddled her fingers at him in a wave goodbye and spun on her heel to go to her own room.

Immediately David's door opened to reveal a sleep rumpled Nico, who ushered him inside.

"You left me stranded out there!" David complained.

"Bro I saw her through the peephole and I wasn't opening the door!"

"You could have unlocked it or something!"

"Fuck no, she'd have slipped in here or something. She scary, man."

"Comes on pretty strong, yeah," Dave agreed. He went to his dresser and put his bag down, ruffling his towel over his hair once more.

"What class are you going to?"

"Intro to education first. I've got a short break, and then it's Intro to children with exceptional needs."

"Lot's of intro's."

"Yeah, I need to satisfy a lot of pre-requisites before I can start doing more interesting stuff. And eventually I'll get to shadow in a classroom and stuff, like student teaching."

"Aight." Nico tossed himself back into his bed and immediately became a lump of pillows and blankets. "Good luck," he muttered from the depths of his cocoon.

"Thanks. I'll try to be quiet until I leave," Dave whispered.

"'preciate it."

Dave went about his routine of getting ready. He took his meds, applied deodorant, and combed his hair. He pulled on a pair of loose fitting, board-short like khaki shorts and tied the white strings as he rifled through his options for a shirt. Finally he pulled out a plain white T and slipped a short sleeve, black button up, which he left hanging open. He slipped on a pair of black flip flops and checked himself over in the mirror on the back of the door. It was dark in the room, but a bit of light filtered in from behind the curtains, illuminating his reflection just enough for him to decide that he looked fine. The short sleeves of his button up squeezed the muscles of his arms slightly, and he made a tight fist, watching the material pull and feeling satisfied with himself. He looked nice. Casual, but nice. From the floor he grabbed a simple black backpack and filled it with a few pens, a pencil, a notebook, and the paper on which he had written his classes for the day and their locations. Triple checking his pockets for his key and sparing a second to cross his chest with a mist of body spray he gathered himself and left his dorm.

After a solitary brunch, during which he texted his dad and surfed aimlessly through his phone to appear busy, Dave wandered around the academic halls. Finally, he brought himself to the assigned classroom and took a seat, dropping his bookbag onto the floor beside his chair. When he placed his hand atop the desk he became aware of a tremor in his hand as his fingers immediately began to rattle against the wood. He instead clenched tightly at the material of his shorts, feeling the shaking fingers grip the fabric and dig into his leg slightly. He was awkwardly the first one into the room, and he waited impatiently for someone else to show up. Just when he considered taking out his schedule for the fourth time to check the room number, the door handle clicked and the door swung open. David attempted to look very busy with his phone.

"Hey," a voice greeted.

"Oh hey," he answered back. He had a feeling his false surprise appeared as genuine as when you pretended to look shocked when a waiter shows up with your food, even though you watched them carry it across an entire restaurant. That is, he failed.

"Intro to education, right? I'm not in the wrong place?"

Dave shook his head. "Nope. No, I mean, _yes _this is intro to education, _no _you're not in the wrong place. You're… you're good." He internally smacked himself.

The boy laughed lightly and to David's surprise he pulled out the chair right next to his own. Wasn't it supposed to be like, a faux pas to sit right next to someone else on the first day unless you absolutely had to? Sort of like the unspoken but universal 1,3,5 urinal rule.

Once his book was settled on his desk and the straps of his backpack slung on the back of his chair, the kid turned sideways in his chair to face David entirely and held out a hand. "I'm Caleb," he introduced himself smoothly.

Dave met his gaze- and what a gaze it was. Caleb had greenish amberish eyes that seemed to dance with mischief. The smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks looked like the kind that the summer sun brought out but would probably fade as the seasons drew on. Brown hair flopped lazily across his forehead, sweeping to just the tops of his eyes. A dimple pulled in his right cheek as he grinned.

"Uh, Dave," the other introduced himself. They shook hands, and Dave prayed his wasn't sweaty. "Where are you from?"

"Oh, not far," Caleb answered. "Do you know Weston?"

Dave shook his head. Meanwhile, more students began to file into the room. The two continued their conversation, paying no heed to anyone else.

"It's only about a twenty minute drive so I likely should have just commuted, but I wanted the whole dorm experience, you know?"

"I thought the exact same thing!" Dave told him. "My dad wanted me to make the drive but it's about an hour and I thought that'd be insane. Plus I really wanted to get out of our town."

"I can understand that. Personally I've always liked it here. You know, growing up in this general area or whatever so I feel like I know my way around."

Dave huffed a laugh. "You know where the good places to get food are?" he joked. "All my dad and I could find were pizza, Chinese and the diner."

"Oh, Main Street?" Caleb asked, pulling a face. "Kind of a letdown. I don't know who named it 'main,' but it's definitely not, and there's definitely better places to eat. I'll have to show you some time."

Dave grinned. "That'd be awesome."

The door opened again and an older woman walked in, her heels clacking resonantly on the tile floor.

"I guess we'll have to continue this later then," Caleb dropped his voice to a whisper.

Dave shrugged, trying not to smile too hard and the two of them turned their attention to the professor, now at the front of the class.

By the end of the hour, Dave and Caleb had teamed themselves up to work on the first major assignment. It wasn't a partners project or anything, but hey a study buddy or whatever is always useful. Dave was worried that the grin on his face might be a little too obvious when his phone was handed back to him with the new contact **Caleb Dennison ;)** entered in it. When the class was dismissed, the two loitered in the hall before going their separate ways.

"So what dorm are you in?" Caleb asked.

"Kohl," he answered. "Third floor. It's right near the-"

"Dining hall, I know," Caleb finished for him, nodding. "Me too. Well I'm not in Kohl but I'm in the building sort of adjacent. Centennial."

"Ah, really?" Dave sighed exasperatedly. "I wanted to get in there! Private bathrooms and stuff, right?"

Caleb shrugged. "It's a perk," he said.

Dave agreed. "Yeah. I think I submitted my housing request too late. It's newer and probably filled up really fast."

"Probably. I was accepted early admission, so my papers were in pretty early on."

"And you're studying education, of course," Dave sort of inquired.

"Yup. I want to teach global history in high school once I've got my degree."

Dave made a face.

"Hey, what's wrong with history?"

"Nothing, it's high school. I could never spend my career dealing with all the crap that goes on there."

Caleb nodded in agreement. "Definitely. But I figure I might be able to be one teacher that can do something different, you know? My 9th grade English teacher opened up a lot of doors for me in my life. I could be that person for someone later on."

"Huh. That's an admirable way to look at it."

"Thanks. Listen I've got to get going, I've got class across campus in twenty. Text me, ok?"

Dave nodded, and Caleb brushed past him, rather closely if he thought about it. The teen breathed out heavily, biting his tongue. He fished the crumpled schedule from his pocket and double checking that he still had an hour before his next class, set off at a brisk pace back toward his dorm to wait out the down time.

* * *

A shrill whistle split through the air and Dave turned sharply, sending up a spray of ice as he changed direction. He glided swiftly over to the boards at the side of the arena and grabbed his water bottle from where it sat on the ledge. With a practiced motion he spat the rubber guard out of his mouth and nudged his helmet up his face to suck the water down greedily. He felt sweat running down his temples and lowered the water bottle, breathing deeply. Around him the rush of other players coming for their water break skidded around him. A few patted him on the shoulder and welcomed him to the team. Satisfied with his level of hydration he tossed the bottle back onto the ledge and pushed his face mask down again, working the mouth guard back onto his teeth.

"Karofsky," someone called at him. He spun, looking for the person who matched the voice. He wondered who would know his voice, before remembering that he was wearing his old town-team jersey, complete with his name and number, 22, emblazoned on the back.  
"Over here." A man in an orange sweatshirt was standing beside the penalty box. Dave skated over immediately. When he reached the boards this time he took off his helmet entirely, spitting his mouth guard into in and tucking it under his left arm.

"You're good," the man said without hesitation. Apparently, he was a coach.

"Uh, thank you, Sir."

"Did you consider playing for the school team?"

Dave looked down. "I mean the thought crossed my mind, but I'm not at school to play hockey. I love it, but I think I'd rather just play club."

"You don't want a tryout?"

Dave considered it briefly. "I don't have the time commitment for the actual team, Sir. I'm going to need to keep my grades up."

The coach nodded understandingly. "That's a shame. I could use a left wing as good as you. I guess the club's going to have a good addition to their team this year." He reached out a hand to shake David's.

"Thank you. And I appreciate the offer," Dave told him, shaking it. The whistle blew again. "Is that all, or?"

"You're fine. Go have fun."

"Thanks."

Dave skated off again with a swish and made his way into the pack of hockey players now lining up at the center line for wind sprints. He chucked his helmet onto the ledge on the way and cracked his stick on the ground, loving the echo of it around the rink. In response several other players smacked their sticks against the ice and shouted. Dave grinned.

He was definitely going to like it here.

* * *

Note: Thank you for reading! A few of you have favorited or at least followed this fic so far and I really appreciate it! I especially love receiving reviews!  
If you would like to know what Caleb looks like, copy this rubbish into your search bar. Replace **cat** with **com** and remove the spaces.  
www . homorazzi . **cat** / wp - content / uploads / 2011 / 10 / sam - way - freckles . jpg

Hope you continue to enjoy!

-darkestAngel13


	5. When Two Skate, is it a Date?

Hello again, thanks for your patience. I hope you continue to read and enjoy :)  
*Disclaimer* I don't own anything that doesn't belong to me!

* * *

On Tuesday night, Dave was sitting at his desk, which had been moved partially in front on their wide window. His desk lamp illuminated the room and he was playing music from his iTunes playlist on his laptop while he read through his class syllabi. Nico was in class. His phone buzzed and he felt like he had just swallowed an ice cube when he saw that it was Caleb texting him. He clicked the message to open it.

"What are u doing?"

Dave gnawed the inside of his cheek. "Gym," he texted back.

The phone buzzed immediately in response. "Lies :P"

"Got me. Just doing some reading. How'd you know?"

"Dnt freak out I'm not creeping but I can c in2 ur room :/"

Dave's eyes grew and looked up at his open window. Then and there he vowed to be careful of his behavior and appearance when his blinds weren't closed. He squinted, looking across the courtyard at the dorm across the way. His phone buzzed in his hand.

"Left."

He looked, seeing nothing in particular. His phone buzzed again.

"Sorry, my left."

Turning his head he looked upward a floor and that was when he spotted Caleb illuminated by a light of some sort in his own room. He waved awkwardly. "Want to go for a walk or something?" He texted.

"Sure," came the answer. "Meet me in the courtyard."

Dave looked around his room, thinking of changing his shirt- the one that he had indeed been wearing an hour earlier when he really was at the gym. Before he stripped it off though, he turned back to the window and pulled the blinds closed, noticing that Caleb's silhouette was already gone from his window. He changed quickly, reapplying deodorant and running a comb through his hair. Patting his pocket for his keys he snapped the lights off and left the room.

The main doors of the residence hall swooshed open and Dave stepped out into the comfortably warm night.

"Hey," Caleb's voice called at him from the sidewalk. He jogged toward the bigger student and they half-slapped, half- shook hands.

"So besides spying on other students, what are you up to?"

"Woah woah, not spying, just observing," Caleb said with a laugh.

"Yes, of course," Dave answered teasingly, then adopting a deeper, accented voice. "And heah we observe the elusive David Karofsky in his natural state of studious boredem."

Caleb grinned. "Your last name is cool. Polish?"

"Nah, Russian actually. Probably why hockey's in my blood."

"I hate hockey," Caleb announced with a crinkled nose.

"What?!" Dave faked injury, bringing a hand to his chest in offense. "_How_?"

"First of all, I can never figure out how one second everything's ok even though people are massacring each other on the ice but in the next moment someone lifts their stick a bit too high and 'woah, this guy needs a time out, he's clearly too violent.'" Caleb gestured with his hands a lot when he talked. "Second I can't skate, so I guess there's a bit of pissed off jealousy combined with the amazement of 'how in hell did you just jump over him get smacked in the head and still manage to skate away', and third of all there is far too much padding to be able to appreciate the fine physique beneath," Caleb answered.

Dave bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stop smiling so damned much, watching the sidewalk as they walked.

Caleb reached out and caught the side of his shirt, pulling him to a stop. "Dave you are gay, right? Because if not you could like, tell me right now and I won't talk like that if it bothers you."

He was very upfront about it, not sounding nervous in the least bit but rather just laying the question out there.

"Uh, no, I am." Dave answered. "I just, don't really know how you knew."

Caleb smirked at him, those damn dimples flashing in the glow of the streetlights.

"I don't really know either," he said. "Admittedly I'm from a smallish town and never really had time to perfect my gaydar, let alone practice my flirting technique, but since you _are_ gay, if I do say so myself I did fairly well on at least the first half so far."

Dave stuck his tongue in his cheek, "yeah you're doing ok on the second half too." They started walking again.

"So you've never had a boyfriend?" Dave asked.

"No. Not for a lack of want, I guess, but it just never happened. I can be pretty shy but I promised myself I would really try not to be once I got to college, and here I am. How about you? Any romantic endeavors?"

Dave chuckled. "Ah, no. A crush or six, and a horribly misguided sexuality-crisis that lasted far too long and got far too messy... I'd rather not get into it actually. I can count the amount of people that I'm willingly out to on one hand."

Caleb got quiet.

"Does that bother you?"

Caleb shrugged. "I guess not. I mean you're not planning to spend forever in the closet, right?"

"Definitely not. Not too long ago, I was pretty sure that well, I'd be dying in the closet. No hope for any sort of bright, gay future. But I've been working on it. I'm content with myself at this point."

Caleb stuffed his hands in his pockets. They turned a corner and Dave recognized the athletic building up ahead. "You really can't skate?"

"Nope. Took a spill when I was about 8 and never tried again."

"Oh come on, that's pathetic," Dave teased.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Caleb laughed back.

"What time is it?"

"10:22."

"Come on, the ice doesn't close until 11:30. Let's go skate."

"In my flip flops?" Caleb protested, pointing to his feet and stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

"They have rentals, Mr. Took a Spill at Eight. Come on, we're going."

Dave reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging the protesting student along. If he didn't let go until they reached the building entrance, well, that was just a coincidence.

"Do you have a dollar?" Dave asked, patting his pocket and realizing he hadn't brought his wallet.

"Making me skate, making me pay..." Caleb pretended to grumble, fishing a crumpled dollar from his pocket and offering it to Dave.

"Thanks," David grinned, snatching it. "Wait here." He left Caleb sitting awkwardly on a bench in the hallway outside of the ice arena. When he returned Caleb was tapping at the screen of his phone.

"Whatcha lookin at?"

Caleb jumped. "Oh, it's this game called Running With Bulls. It's like Temple Run but with bulls and in Spain, so..." He clicked the screen off and pocketed it. "Do I get my dollar back?"

"Nope." Dave tossed a pair of plain white socks onto Caleb's lap. "Brand new vending machine socks. You're welcome."

Caleb eyed them begrudgingly but kicked off his flip-flops and ripped open the sock packaging.

"I guessed at your skate size, and they rarely actually are the same as your sneaker size, so we'll just have to try 'em and see what happens. Dave knelt on the rubbery floor beside the bench and took one of Caleb's socked feet by the ankle. He held it up beside a black, scuffed skate. The two judged the size by comparison.

"What do you think?"

Caleb shrugged. "Meh, might as well try it."

Dave stood again. "Right. Stay there again for a sec and put those on. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"I have equipment in the locker room. I'm going to get my own skates."

"Oooh, state of the art?" Caleb asked teasingly

Dave snorted. "Hardly. They're like four years old and smell like it too."

Caleb laughed. "Niiiice. Stay away from me."

Dave tossed a middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away again.

* * *

When the two finally made their way to the entrance to the ice Caleb stepped out in front of David to enter first. Immediately the bigger of the two felt Caleb begin to lean backward as he placed his foot out on the ice. Dave reached out and steadied Caleb's shoulders.

"No wait, don't lean back. If you put your feet in front and lean back you'll fall back. Keep your weight even, just like when you're walking, and lean forward a bit to propel yourself forward."

Caleb nodded, but held onto the wall with his right hand as he made his way onto the rink. Dave eagerly stepped out behind him and glided around easily to face him.

"Show off."

Dave shook his head. "Nah. Come on, there's no one here because it's so early in the year. You should learn to skate now and then we can come here when it's busy sometime and you won't embarrass me."

"Ohh, God forbid that should happen," Caleb snarked. Without thinking, he waved both hands in the air mockingly, thereby letting go of the wall. Immediately, Dave reached out and grabbed both those hands in his own.

"Hey!"

"Heyy," Dave answered back quietly. "Come on." He skated backward slowly. "Just step forward and push off."

Caleb did, gliding slowly toward Dave until the latter backed up again, tugging him along by the fingers.

"Your hands are shaking, you cold? Nervous?" Caleb commented as they awkwardly maneuvered across the rink. Dave hoped that he wasn't blushing, but he felt his face get hot.

"Uh, no, not cold. Though we'll probably start feeling it soon, out on the ice in shorts. And not really nervous 'til you just said that, but no. l take some medication that gives me tremors. It gets annoying, but the alternative is not having the medicine, and that's not so great either." He knew for sure that his face was likely rather red now. His ears were burning, at least.

"Oh, sorry for mentioning it."

"No it's ok. Now you know."

Caleb bit his tongue. "Are you like, okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I am now. That's what the medicine's for after all."

"Glad to hear."

Dave smiled. "Now that I'm suitably embarrassed, let's see how you do on your own." He abruptly dropped Caleb's hands and sped backward a few paces. Caleb's arms pinwheeled at his sides for a second and his toes turned inward, but he remained upright.

"Nice," Dave praised. "Now move forward."

"I rather hate you right now," Caleb said under his breath. He braced himself and began to skate forward slowly but steadily toward David.

"You got it, excellent!"

"How do I turn?"

"Just lean with it, same as when I was holding you up." Dave watched as Caleb over-compensated with the turn and was immediately at his side again before he even began to tip. "Almost. Try again." He backed off once more and watched as Caleb arched a wide turn to the right. "Good, aaaaand, _stop before you hit the wall_."

Caleb turned his toes properly but too late as he bumped unceremoniously into the white boards with a resounding_ thunk_. He caught himself there and turned around to face David as the latter skated smoothly toward him, braking with a short spray of ice.

"I think that was successful overall for your first lesson."

"A good teacher helps."

"Well you'll have to find one of those somewhere."

"Shut up."

Dave tongued his cheek. "Now I _am_ getting cold. Want to head back?"

"Yeah that's enough skating for today."

* * *

As the two walked back toward their residence halls, their conversation continued.

"So do you like _any_ sports?"

"Oh definitely. I'm big into lacrosse. I'd have loved to go to school for it, but there's really not much of a draw to college or professional lacrosse, unlike baseball or football or hockey or whatever. But I led my high school team to state champs my junior and senior year."

"Nice. My first high school didn't have a lacrosse team, but my second one did. I don't think they were all that great though."

"What are you good at? Like, besides hockey."

"Uh, I can cook pretty well actually. My dad and I have an agreement that I cook and he takes care of all the dishes. It's a good system but sometimes I feel guilty and help him out if I went nuts and used all the pots and dishes we have."

Caleb laughed.

They reached the sidewalk in the courtyard where they had began their walk that evening. "Well, I've got to get inside," Caleb announced. "I have an 8am tomorrow and don't want to sleep late."

"Sounds good. My roommate's back from class by now and will probably want to rant about professors or syllabi or something. I'll see you tomorrow in class though."

"Yeah. Hey David... I know we like just met and you're sort of only partway out, but I just want to throw it out there if I haven't been straightforward. I _am_ interested, ok? In you I mean. I think I could really like you and I think we should keep hanging out."

Dave watched the sidewalk, trying not to grin, feeling the fingers of his left hand beat a random pattern against his thigh. "Cool," he answered finally. "Yeah I feel the same way. Thanks for telling me. I'm not good at this, like at all."

Caleb smiled. "You're fine. G'night, Dave. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night."

Dave told himself that he would not watch Caleb walk away and get to his building, so he turned to his own dorm and swiped his ID for the front doors to click open. When he made his way to the third floor, he passed by Courtney.

"Hey David!"

"Hi Courtney,"

"Settling in okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Definitely."

"Any friends yet?"

Dave smiled. "Yeah. Nico's great and I've managed to meet a couple other people that seem nice so far. Hey listen," he began, lowering his voice a tad.  
"Did you read the papers I slipped under your door by any chance?"

Courtney bit her lip. "Yes," she answered professionally. "I really appreciate that you shared that information with me. I need you to know that what happened last year has nothing to do with how I'm going to treat you or talk to you, ok? I'm glad you brought it up actually, because I wasn't entirely sure if I should. Are you aware of the counseling services available to students on campus?"

"Yeah," Dave said, nodding. "And I'm on medicine for anxiety and stuff, like I said on the paper, and I really have been feeling good for a while now. I just... I know my dad feels more comfortable at home knowing I'm not alone here, and part of that is having someone aware of what's going on."

"I can understand that," Courtney answered. "I'm always available to chat if you want, ok?"

"Okay. Thank you again. And... I know you said it's confidential, so I appreciate your discretion about the other thing too, ok?"

"Totally. Just curious though- you know Dr. Seuss, right?"

"Yeah. One fish two fish and all that."

"There's a really awesome quote that apparently is by him. I think it's pretty powerful. _Be who you are, and say what you feel. Because those who mind, don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."_

Dave nodded. "My dad keeps telling me stuff like that. I know I should believe it, but when you really want someone's approval, and don't have it, it's hard to just tell yourself that that person doesn't matter. Thanks though. It is a good quote. I've got to head to bed now though. Goodnight, Courtney."

"Night, Dave."

* * *

Note: Hey! Sorry it took me a while longer to get this chapter out. I still need to decide where this story is actually going to go. Hope you all are enjoying Caleb. I think he's a cutie pie.

Please read and review, and follow me on Tumblr! perpetuating-pez


	6. Halloween Hardships

A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, NCIS, Sean Murray, Hocus Pocus, ABC, Powerpoint, iPhone, or any other recognizable and already owned ideas that are discussed in this story.  
Hi Everyone! I hope you enjoy chapter six! There is a time jump here of a little less than 2 months. It is now the end of October in this story!  
Please review!

* * *

**Thursday, October 31st**

Dave sped up his pace a bit when he saw a familiar figure ahead of him in the hallway heading to their Education class. When he reached Caleb he tugged the jacket of his sleeve to grab his attention and felt a now familiar jolt in his chest when the other turned to him with a grin.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Happy Halloween."

"You too. Doing anything fun?"

"Well I was wondering," Dave began. "If I shamelessly abuse your possession of a vehicle on campus for my own selfish reasons, is it okay as long as I invite you to reap the benefits?"

Caleb laughed in a way that made his nose scrunch. "Slow down Mr. Vocabulary. What?"

"Can you drive me to the store after classes? I'm cooking dinner tonight and me and Nico are going to hog the common room to eat and watch the trashy Halloween movies on ABC. You can come too, keep me company while I cook and just hang out."

Caleb thought it over. "My last class gets out at 4, is that enough time?"

"I'd say so," Dave figured. "If we get to the store around 4:30, back here by 5:15, and I can start cooking right away we should eat at a normal time and be set for a 7 or 8 o'clock movie."

They reached their classroom and Dave pulled open the door, holding it with his arm and allowing Caleb to duck under and enter first. Their voices lowered as they took their seats and continued the conversation.

"You think _Hocus Pocus _will be on? Did you ever notice that the guy, I forgot his name, that plays the brother that becomes a cat is the same guy that's on NCIS now?"

"Which one?"

"McGee, the one that's good with computers."

"Oh, Sean Murray? Really? I didn't know that. I haven't seen that movie in a long time."

"Yeah, he looked like a baby back then, but it's definitely him."

"Well I'll see if it's on tonight."

"What were you thinking of cooking?"

Dave shrugged. "Nico and I eat everything, so whatever you want is good."

Caleb nodded. "I've only met your roommate like once and it was for 30 seconds. You said he's cool, right?"

"Yeah, he's awesome. Lazy as shit, but a nice guy."

Caleb yawned suddenly, covering his mouth as his jaw stretched wide.

"You okay?"

Caleb rubbed his left eye with two fingers. "Mhm. Just wiped out. I pulled an all-nighter finishing up a power point presentation in my Spanish class."

"Really? You don't really look like shit."

Caleb yawned again, but he huffed out a laugh. "Thanks, Dave. That was almost a compliment. You don't look too ugly today either."

Dave reached over and flicked his friend in the side of the head. "Hey, that's not what I meant and you know it."

"I know. And for the record you look adorable as always. I don't know why I never really look tired. I tend to wake up looking well rested regardless of how little I sleep even if I feel exhausted on the inside. On the plus side, I always take good pictures."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "Just for that I'm going to catch you looking like awful one day and snap a thousand pictures."

"You can try," Caleb challenged.

At the front of the room, their professor began speaking loudly, calling the attention of the class as she started her lesson.

* * *

At 4:10, Dave was sitting at his desk highlighting a paragraph in one of his textbooks when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" He called.

The door knob rattled, but it was apparently locked.

"Oh sorry, it's locked! I'm coming," he got up and crossed the floor, opening to door to Caleb, who was slouched against the wall in the hall.

"Hey, all finished?" Dave greeted.

"Finally. But I'm dead on my feet. I don't feel like I could drive right now, you okay if we wait like 20 minutes for me to clear my head?"

"Yeah, of course." Dave was grateful that he was in the habit of keeping his room clean and his bed made. It made it much easier to ask, "Want to just crash here for a bit?"

Caleb eyed the comfortable-looking bed with longing. "You wouldn't care?"

Dave shook his head, stepping back to allow Caleb more fully into the room. "Of course not. I was just reading so it's not all that important and… hey I wouldn't say no to a nap either." He bit his lip and watched Caleb's face.

"Sounds fine with me." Caleb crossed the floor and dropped his messenger back beside the bed with a thunk. Kicking off his shoes he braced his hands on the mattress and heaved himself up onto the raised bed, and Dave would be lying if he said it didn't affect him to see the attractive guy leap into his bed.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "um, light on or off?" he asked.

"Off. I'm setting my phone to go off at 4:40. Will that still give us time?"

"Uh, yeah, even 4:45 is good if you want." Dave toed off his own sneakers and closed the door before reaching for the light switch and tossing the room into partial darkness. A faint glow of sunlight cast slight shadow around the room from behind the closed blinds. He could still make out the shape of Caleb, half-lying and half-leaning back on his hands.

"You okay?" Caleb's voice asked him calmly.

Dave cleared his throat again. "Yeah. I've uh, never had another guy in my bed before."

"Hot?"

"Yeah. Not gunna lie."

Caleb laughed quietly. "Come on Dave. It's just a nap."

"Ok."

Dave crossed the floor and pulled himself up on the bed beside Caleb. He kicked the comforter down under them and then tugged it up over them both, then turning awkwardly onto his right side. His movement tugged Caleb over also, turning them both so that they faced the blank wall. In a move braver than how Dave felt, he raised his left arm and settled it over Caleb's waist, pulling the other snugly against him so that they were spooned comfortably. He stroked his thumb over Caleb's cotton t-shirt and felt the steady rise and fall of Caleb's chest, knowing that the other teen was already asleep or close to it. Finally relaxing, he settled his head against the pillow, not caring about the tickle of soft hair in his face. He closed his eyes and felt himself drift to sleep to the warmth of Caleb's back against his front.

After a half hour nap, at 4:45, the marimba alarm of Caleb's iPhone woke David suddenly. He reached under his pillow for the device and shut it off, lowering his head again and reveling in the sleepy-warm-soft sensation of relaxing with Caleb. The comforter was still tossed high over the both of them, covering their bodies up to the neck, and Dave felt protective, his wider bulk shielding Caleb toward the wall.

The shifting of paper in the room had Dave jerking awake again. He pressed himself up on one elbow and turned his head to the room. Nico, apparently back from class, was sitting at his own desk, flipping through a notebook.

"Sorry man," the dark-skinned boy apologized.

"Nah, it's fine. The alarm woke me up."

"Random cat-nap?"

"Yeah, Caleb was-"

-Caleb?" Nico interrupted.

Dave felt like smacking himself. Apparently in the near darkness, Nico hadn't noticed that David wasn't alone in his bed. Just then the comforter beside Dave shifted and Caleb emerged slowly.

Nico awkwardly turned back to his desk, hurriedly looking incredibly busy. The tinny sound of his ever-present Beats headphones increased in the room as he apparently spiked the volume.

"Hey," Caleb sounded groggy.

"Hi," Dave whispered back. He leaned back down again, his arm still around Caleb's waist and pulling him down with him. He smoothed his thumb methodically over the front of Caleb's t-shirt again, faintly feeling the outline of his stomach and sternum. The two lay that way for a moment, slowly waking up.  
"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Well, I don't feel like I'm going to keel over anymore." Caleb rolled over in Dave's grasp so that they were now facing each other. Dave's thumb resumed its stroking, this time along Caleb's lower spine. "We need to go to the store so you can make dinner."

"Did you decide what you want?"

"What do you think of some sort of chili?"

"By itself? Or with rice or noodles?

Caleb hummed. "Noodles."

"Turkey, beef, or vegetarian chili?"

"Turkey."

"Spicy or sweet?"

"I like a little spice."

"I can do that."

They were quiet for a bit, the sound of Nico's headphones a reminder that they weren't entirely alone in their own world.

"You smell really good," Caleb commented finally.

"Thanks. And you were right about what you said earlier today. You look perfect even when you've just woken up." Dave felt his ears burn as he spoke. "Alright. Enough lazy. Let's go to the store before the street is full of drunk people in costumes."

"Good call."

They rolled unceremoniously out of the bed, working around each other to put on sneakers and grab jackets. After tugging a comb through his rumpled bedhead and offering it to Caleb, Dave finally felt as though the situation and conversation was normal again in the dorm room. He still wanted to speak with Nico though.

"Can you bring your car around and I'll catch up in a sec?"

"No problem." Caleb spun his key chain on a finger and left the room without complaint, allowing David to close the door behind him. He turned a guilty expression on his roommate.

"Sorry," they both spoke at the same time.

"What? No, man," Dave continued. "I know we said we'd text the other if we were having someone over and I know you said you didn't want to see anything, and,"

"Hey Dave, relax. It's totally fine. I was kinda shocked but only cuz I didn't realize he was here. I'm not mad or anything. You both were like, totally dressed and just sleeping, I got nothing wrong with that. If you were like, getting off, that's the stuff I don't want to know about ok?"

"We're not—

"Look, I feel awkward that I sort of interrupted or whatever, but this was completely chill. Just let me know to stay away if it's ever… _not _chill. That's all."

Dave nodded.

"So are you two like, whatever?"

"hn?"

"Like, a couple, or whatever."

"Uh, no. I mean we've talked about it but this is sort of the closest we've been to, uhm-"

"Hooking up?"

"Nah, man. Like, really being close and stuff. We like, hold hands sometimes if we're walking somewhere but that's kind of it."

"But he likes you?"

"He said he does."

"And you like him?"

"Bro I thought you didn't want to talk to me about relationship stuff."

Nico laughed and clapped a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Dave, man, there's a difference between relationship advice and telling you to freakin open your eyes and _go for it._ I ain't offering you no girly tutorials to get your man or whatever. I'm just saying you like each other, so make it a thing, aight?"

"Yeah I guess. You still up for dinner and Halloween movies tonight, right? I don't want you to feel third-wheely."

"You said something about chili before? I'm in. And hey, why don't we just knock on some doors and see if anyone else wants in? Then it's not just me and you and Kevin?"

"Caleb."

"I know, I'm fucking with you."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks, I'm straight."

Dave flipped him off. "Ok I'll see if anyone's around, and then we're off to the store. Want anything specific?"

"If you can find me a girl while you're out, do that."

"In your dreams."

* * *

"You would find the one cart that has a stuck wheel," Dave grumbled as he gripped the bar tightly and shoved the blue cart forward with all of his might. An obnoxious squeak from the one front wheel had both males cringing before it finally began to turn again, only to skip and skid just a few feet further down the aisle.

"Not my fault," Caleb said swiftly. "An unfortunate luck of the draw. Besides, I told you we should get a different one, but you insisted you would make this one work."

"Sure." Dave maneuvered the cart stubbornly toward the produce section and dropped the discussion, unable to come up with a defense for his moment of pig-headedness. "Do you prefer red or green bell peppers?"

"Honestly I prefer the yellow. I think they're sweeter."

"Mhm," Dave agreed. "But I like 'em better raw, like on a salad. Red or green is better to cook in a chili if we want it a bit spicy."

"How bout one of each?"

"Sounds good." Dave grabbed the peppers and dropped them into a clear plastic baggie, twisting it thoroughly and tying it off into a neat knot. "What else?"

"Do you have a recipe to follow?"

"Nah, I usually just throw in what looks good and hope it comes out edible."

"If you poison me I'll never speak to you again," Caleb warned jokingly.

"Aw, but it's halloween," Dave pretended to pout. "There go my plans for arsenic chili."

Caleb laughed. "Trick or _blegh_" he made a choking noise and made a gesture with his hand as though cutting off his air supply with a noose."

Dave suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The mischievous glint in Caleb's eyes softened as he looked at his friend. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." He put his weight behind the cart and shoved it forward again, squeaking away across the tile floor. "Do you like lots of tomato or just a bit?"

"Not too much. I don't like it when it's saucy."

"Me either. I'll just get a small can of stewed tomatoes then."

Caleb put a spark in his step and caught up to Dave, who was still determinedly steering the cart toward a display of canned tomatoes. When he reached him he wound an arm around Dave's, linking their elbows.

"Sometimes I feel like you randomly get mad at me, and I have no idea why," he admitted.

Dave perused the shelves with too much focus and dug the point of his knuckles into his thigh, feeling this pressure distract him from the tic that had been beating in his jaw on and off that day. "Don't be stupid, I don't get mad at you," he answered dismissively.

Caleb dropped his arm, visibly irritated. "Well, you decide to stop talking to me, or, you-" he grabbed Dave's sleeve and tugged him around to face him "or you go from joking with me to ignoring me in ten seconds flat. It's _mean."_

Dave scoffed. "I don't do that," he argued quietly. "And if I did, it's not like I'm hitting you or whatever. If I'm not talking to you, how is that me being mean?"

"Actually you do. Like just a minute ago. And it's being mean because you're not giving me any warning before you decide to clam up and it makes me feel like crap. Look, if you get nervous or whatever then _newsflash,_ it's _okay. _I _like _you, and I think it's cute when you decide to be all bashful when I _flirt_ with you, but then you go and shut off and it's not cute, it's _annoying_."

"Fuck you," Dave answered conversationally, pulling a can from the shelf and tossing it into the rugged cart. He forced the cart past Caleb, blowing him off.

Caleb looked affronted. He jammed the toe of his shoe onto the top of the particularly crappy wheel, causing the cart to jolt forward and come to a stop. "_Excuse you_?"

Dave didn't answer him properly. "Move," he muttered.

"No," Caleb answered, crossing his arms for emphasis.

At that moment, a group of several guys appeared from around the corner of the aisle. Their cart was well stocked with beer and eggs, as well as a 32 pack of toilet paper. Caleb wondered what cashier was going to be stupid or naive enough to think that these customers were simply going to be having a night of omelettes and beer, with a side of unfortunate gastrointestinal issues.

"Aw, trouble in gay paradise?" One sneered to the chuckles of his bro's.

Something in David snapped. He released his grip on the cart's handle and spun around angrily. With a shove and a thunderous crash, the guy who had spoken was thrown up against a set of shelves. Various condiments and dressings clattered to the floor, some spilling or breaking open. David pressed the length of his forearm firmly into the upper chest, really the throat, of the guy he had pinned, who had now raised his hands up in surrender, eyes wide and surprised.  
"You think you're clever?" Dave spat at him harshly. "You're not fucking cool just for saying shit like that. Back the fuck off and mind your own damn business."

He felt two sets of hands grab the back of his shirt and he was hauled backward as several guys shoved him off of their buddy. Dave crammed his fists into his pockets, both to show that he wasn't intending to fight and also to hide the furious shaking in his hands. It wasn't a tic. He felt the blood surging in his ears as he fought to regulate the anger pulsing through him, and he breathed deeply. "I- I'm sorry, Man," he said to the guy, who was now eyeing him with equal parts fury and curiosity.

"Whatever dude." The frat moved on as a group, pushing their halloween supplies toward the registers at the front of the store. Dave closed his eyes, pleading with his heart to stop its racing, and gritting his teeth so hard he worried his molars would crack. His head trembled with the effort of tampering down his anger. He was afraid to open his eyes. Afraid that if he did, Caleb wouldn't be there any more- or worse, be still standing there, but afraid of him.

Finally, he pulled his hands from his pockets and raked his fingers through his hair, probably making it look wild enough to match his personality. He pressed the palms deep into his eyes until he saw little white bursts appear on the black canvas of his vision. Then, he blinked open. To his immense relief, Caleb was still standing beside the cart. There was an odd look on his face- concerned, if anything.

"David?" he asked quietly, as if wondering if Dave was still present in his mind.

"I'm sorry," Dave whispered back.

"Me too," Caleb answered. "I shouldn't have pushed you when I knew you didn't want to talk about it. We aren't dating. It's not my business."

"Did I hurt him?" Dave needed to know.

"Maybe just bruised his pride a little," Caleb said.

Dave gave a half-chuckle. "I, uh. I need to go back to school and make a phone call. Go grab like a frozen pizza or something, ok?" He fished his wallet from his pocket and tried to give it to Caleb, who turned it down.

"No, seriously. Take it. Dinner's still on me, I just can't cook tonight."

Caleb took the wallet hesitantly, seemingly careful not to touch Dave. "Are you ok?"

Dave breathed in deeply, scrubbing his hands over his face and shaking the tremors out of his hands as he felt the adrenaline dissipating in his body. "Um, yeah. I think so. I'm going to go call someone for a clean up here and I'll meet you at check out in a minute."

As they left the store, Caleb holding a plastic bag containing a large DiGiorno Pizza, the intercom buzzed in the store, requesting a "_Clean Up on Aisle 4."_

The drive back to campus was silent. Dave alternated between laying his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes or thunking his temple against the window to watch the scenery as they drove. When Caleb threw the car into park in the lot near their residence halls, Dave was immediately out of the car and pulling his phone from his pocket. They both entered David's residence hall, and Caleb stopped in the common area where the oven was while Dave continued down the hall to his dorm room. Seconds later, Nico appeared in the common room, clutching his phone, headphones, and a few notebooks. He dumped them all on the table and eyed Caleb warily.

"Umm... is he okay?"

Caleb tore open the cardboard packaging on the pizza. "We sort of had a spat at the store. He almost got into it with this guy from Sigma Alpha Epsilon, which probably wouldn't have ended nicely, but I haven't decided which side would have had it worse yet. He said he needed to make a call, and told me to get a pizza because he doesn't feel like cooking anymore."

Nico nodded. "A'ight. _You _okay?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah I'm fine. Dave doesn't really like to talk much, does he?"

"Nah. Kind of a private guy. I know he's talked to our RA a few times though, so he's probably got something goin on, but hey we all got our issues."

Caleb agreed with a grunt. "Can you make sure this doesn't burn? I'm just going to bathroom real quick."

"Mhm," Nico answered, pulling his headphones back on and turning up the volume.

"Thanks."

Caleb wandered down the hall until he came to one decorated with a variety of sparkled cut-outs and Far Side cartoons. The nameplate read "Courney: Resident Assistant." Hoping he wouldn't regret this, Caleb raised his fist and knocked twice.

"Gimme a sec!" Called a bubbly voice from inside. A moment later, the door was pulled open, and a girl with green facepaint on was staring at him.  
"HiiiI don't know you?" She greeted and asked in one breath.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Caleb Dennison. I'm a friend of one of your residents. I was wondering if I could just speak to you for a second?"

"Um, I guess so?" She held the door open in invitation and gestured for him to have a seat. "Sorry, I'm getting ready for an RA Halloween thing, so don't mind me if I finish getting ready."

"No problem," Caleb answered.

"So what's up?"

"Well, I don't want anyone to get in trouble..." he began awkwardly.

She looked up at him from over the sponge of green paint that she was applying to her forehead.

"Is something illegal being done in the residence hall?"

"No,"

"Is anyone planning to do something illegal in the residence hall?"

"No," Caleb couldn't help but laugh.

"Is anyone dead?"

"No,"

"Okay then, how about you tell me what's going on and we'll discuss if there's any reason for someone to be in trouble, because so far it all sounds good."

"Uhm, I'm just kind of concerned for one of your residents because he sort of just blew off the handle when we were out at the store out of no where and he was almost in a fight but then he calmed down and I feel like he's sort of just trapped in his head because he wouldn't talk to me after it happened. I'm only bringing it up to you because I feel like it was really out of character for him."

"Can I ask who you're talking about?"

"Uhm, David Karofsky. I'd kind of appreciate it if you didn't tell him I was talking to you."

A look passed over Courtney's face but it was gone before Caleb could identify it.

"Where's Dave now?"

"In his room."

"Is his roommate with him?"

"Uh, no. I think he kicked Nico out."

Courtney bit her lip. "Thank you, Caleb. I really appreciate you telling me. No one's in trouble and I won't tell him you spoke to me. I need to go check in on him now though, so if you don't mind..."

"Yeah no problem. I'm making dinner in the common room, so I'll be around, so uh. Thanks." He left the room when Courtney opened the door, knowing that as he walked back to the common room, she was making her way down the hall to David.

* * *

Dave answered the knock at the door with his phone tucked under his chin, figuring that Nico had forgotten something. He scrubbed a hand across his face briefly to wipe away any evidence of angry tears and politely asked Dr. B to hold for a minute. When the door swung open he found Courtney looking at him through a cake of green facepaint.

"What's up?" He asked.

"I'm just doing rounds to check in and make sure all the rooms are behaving. Halloween night and all that."

"Um, we're all right," Dave answered awkwardly. "But I'm kind of in the middle of an important phone call with my doctor, so.." he made to close the door.

Courtney bit her lip. "Okay," she told him finally. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do. Bye." He closed the door a click and went back to his conversation.

* * *

When Courtney passed by the plexi glass windows of the common room, she found Nico and that Caleb kid peering into the open oven, poking at whatever was inside with a wooden spoon.

"Boo!" She called, throwing open the door quickly. She cackled as they both jumped. "What are you doing?"

"How do you know if a frozen pizza's done?" Nico asked.

"Um, when it doesn't look frozen anymore I guess," she answered.

"How's Dave?" Caleb asked her.

"He's on the phone. He seemed fine for now and maybe he'll talk to you later. I've got to go now. Have a good night, gentlemen."

"You too," they chorused.

Nico closed the oven door, tossing the wooden spoon on the counter. "You told her about Dave, man?"

"Yeah. He was just acting weird, it was bugging me."

"Whatever dude. I feel like that's breaking some kinda bro code tattling like that."

"I don't care about a friggin 'guy code,' or whatever when I think something's bothering one of my friends."

Nico narrowed his eyes at Caleb. "Are you two like, gay together?"

Caleb raised his eyebrows. "I think that depends on the manner in which you are defining 'gay' in that sentence. If, for example, you mean are David and I both homosexual men that are hanging out and therefore collectively a pair of homosexuals, then yes we are 'gay together,'" he answered, putting the phrase in finger quotes. "If you're being vulgar and asking me if we're fucking, then no. And I'd thank you not to ask me something so rude ever again."

Caleb crossed the floor and threw himself down in an armchair. He picked up the remote that had been left on a table and flicked the television on, skimming through the channels to find the Halloween movie marathon. The room was silent for conversation, the sounds from the tv filling the empty air. By the time the second commercial break came around, Nico had checked the pizza four more times, announcing that it wasn't burnt yet. Just then, the door turned and Dave stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Hey Dave," Nico called at him. "How do you know when a frozen pizza's done?"

"Um, when it doesn't look frozen anymore, I guess," Dave answered dully. "Caleb, can I talk to you?"

Nico looked suitably disappointed in Dave's familiar response and decided to focus on the oven as the other two left the room to talk in the hallway.

Dave hitched the strap of a backpack up on his shoulder, a motion that Caleb's eyes easily followed. "Going somewhere?" he asked.

"My Dad's going to come pick me up tonight. I won't be in classes tomorrow but he'll drop me back here Sunday afternoon."

"Dave, what-?"

"Can you take notes for me tomorrow?"

"Yeah of course. I just..."

"Look," Dave said with a sigh. "I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. And I'm sorry for the times when you think I've been mean or ignoring you. I've um, I've got some issues I'm working through, and I want to be able to talk to you about it, because I really... I really like you. So I'm going to go home tonight, and I'm going to see my doctor tomorrow, and I'll talk things over with him ok? And when I get back, I'll be ready to talk to you about everything. Can you, can you give me the weekend?"

"Yeah," Caleb breathed, somewhat curious by Dave's mention if his doctor. "Dave, are you _ok?"_

"Honestly, most of the time I am. I swear. But when I'm not, well, that's what Doctor Bevotti is for."

Caleb nodded, his hair flopping into his face. Dave reached out and brushed it away gently. He allowed his arm to trace down Caleb's side, stopping at his hand and taking it in his own. Caleb laced their fingers. "When will your dad get here?"

"It's a bit more than an hour drive. I packed up my stuff, so let's just watch some TV and rescue Nico from his pizza woes, and then he'll be here. Sound ok?"

"Yup, sounds fine."

Dave briefly considered dropping Caleb's hand before they walked back into the common room, but then he recalled Nico's lack of hostile response to seeing the two share a bed and squeezed tighter, feeling warm inside when he felt Caleb squeeze back.

* * *

Note:  
Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I'll try to do better about posting on time. Guys can you please keep my mom in your thoughts/prayers? Her chemo treatment isn't going so well...

Thanks for reading! Please follow my on Tumblr at perpetuating-pez :)

**If you have any ideas or something specific you'd like to see in this fic, message me and I'll give you credit if I use the idea!**

-darkestAngel13


	7. Therapy

Hi Everyone! Thanks for reading, here's chapter 7! Be aware that** this chapter contains reference to attempted suicide, abuse/bullying, and anxiety. **

*Disclaimer. I don't own Glee, or anything else recognizable in this fic, including Web MD. Also, remember that this story is FICTION and I make no promises that it is accurate medically, psychologically, or scientifically.  
Please review!

* * *

Dave took a seat in the chair that he normally occupied, pulling it up beside a small table containing various tubs of clay. He reached for the red and ripped the lid off of it, pulling out a chunk and beginning to work it with his fingers.

He didn't make eye contact with his doctor until the man cleared his throat a moment later and began by saying, "So, angry today?"

Dave nodded, kneading the clay into one hand with the knuckles of his other.

"Who or what are you angry at?"

"Myself," Dave muttered.

"Because of what a young man said to you in the store?"

Dave continued to work the clay. "Kind of more because I let it happen."

"You can't control what people say to you or think about you, David."

"But I'm supposed to be able to control how I respond to it! Wasn't that the point in me talking to you all this time?!"

Dr. B nodded thoughtfully. "Partly, yes, but do you recall the way our sessions went when you first began here?"

Dave shook his head. "I try not to."

"You spent a long time just getting out of your own head, David. Long sessions of gray clay only, remember?"

Dave looked over at the tub of gray clay that represented his anxiety and rolling turmoil that had plagued him for the weeks before and after his attempted suicide.

"I'm proud of your progress David, but it concerns me that you think you didn't have control of yourself when you went after the other student. Do you believe that your medication has been ineffective?"

"No, actually," Dave answered firmly.

"I actually think it's too strong. I'm too jittery and I swear I'm not feeling depressed, but then when... He didn't even say anything _mean_ really, just a stupid taunt and I _snapped_. It's like, I didn't even know what happened before he was slammed against the shelves and my sneakers were soaked in Italian dressing."

Dr. B hmm'd for a bit, flicking through the admittedly large file that he kept for David. "You've expressed a similar account of this sort of behavior in the past. How do you feel about cutting back on focusing on anxiety and perhaps taking a look into managing or channeling your anger?"

"I play hockey," Dave answered defensively.

"I'm not sure why that's relevant."

"When I play hockey, I think about all the shit that I've been pissed about, and I can crack a slap shot or slam a guy into the boards and it feels better."

Dr. B nodded. "Frequently, people find physical activity to be a great stress reliever. Martial arts or football, or hockey in your case, all very physical and high-contact sports, and when it's controlled and safe, that's ok. That being said, I want you to think about what happens if, when you allow anger to consume you and your habitual response is to check a fully padded hockey player into the boards, then outside of the rink, when you feel that anger again, your initial response is going to be..."

He allowed the statement to hang in the air, waiting for David to complete the thought.

"I'll want to check someone else," he said in a hushed tone. He made eye contact with his therapist and held it, looking for an answer in the kind gaze.

"Do you feel that that might have been what happened on Halloween?"

Dave coughed, shaking his head at himself. "That's got to be exactly what happened," he admitted. "And if, if I reacted just out of habit or muscle memory or whatever, that's why I feel like I sort of blacked out and I don't remember going after him? _God_, what if I had hit Caleb? Jesus this is what that domestic abuse shit is all about isn't it?" He began to work the clay again frantically in his hands.

"Hey hey hey, try to calm yourself," The doctor interrupted. "You are _not_ an abuser, Dave," he said firmly. "Are there common threads here? Yes, I won't lie to you. But look at how you responded to the idea of Caleb being hurt, how does that make you feel?"

"God, I feel sick," Dave answered frantically. He chucked the clay to the table and reached for a trash can that was situated under the table he was at. He gagged for a second, trying to control his breathing. Then, "_Kurt_," he groaned, putting a hand to his forehead and resting his elbow on the table to support himself. He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck, realizing that Dr. Bevotti had left his desk to help him when it looked like he might be sick. The hand felt comforting against his sweating skin, and it dropped to rub small circles against his shoulders.

"What about Kurt?"

"I- I attacked him!" Dave answered.

"You stopped."

"But I liked him and I beat him up and, and _kissed_ him and God, why are you telling me that's not abuse?" He scrubbed angrily at his face when he felt tears leak down his cheeks. He realized he wasn't going to throw up and pushed the can back under the table.

"I wouldn't deny that your treatment of Kurt was abuse." Dr. B said carefully. "But I will not allow you or anyone else to label you as an abuser. You need _help_, Dave, and I can give it to you. Your progress since you began here shows me that you are incredibly receptive to counseling and medical treatment. That makes you different. You _want_ to be better. Tell me more about Kurt and Caleb."

"Why?"

Dr. B hesitated. "Because I want to prove to you why I don't believe you liked Kurt as much as you think you did."

Dave looked at him, confused. "Okay, what do you want to know about them?"

"Tell me about Kurt first. What does he look like?" Doctor Bevotti returned to his desk, where he sat in his large chair and leaned back comfortably, as though awaiting some great story.

"Um, he wears really skinny pants a lot of the time, like, I don't even know what sort of fabric that is but there's no way it's normal denim. Sometimes he wears shirts that I think he buys in women's stores because they're like... not _girly,_ but they don't look like something most guys would buy because it's got gems or something like a design like Marilyn Manson on it."

"Marilyn Monroe?"

"Yeah, what'd I say?"

"Manson."

"Oh no, Kurt would never wear something with Marilyn Manson on it. I meant Monroe. The one in the white dress. Um, he wore a kilt to prom and everyone made him prom queen, I told you about that a while ago. What else?"

"Whatever you else you think of."

"Oh, sometimes he goes from dressing really um 'effeminate'," (he put the word in air quotes,) "to like, well it looks like he's trying to look sporty or something. For example he wore a hoody once and a bandana around his forehead, and sometimes it's weird styles like the time he had some sort of tail tucked into his pocket, but usually I think he just tries to look nice. He looks way more formal than what most kids wear to high school because everyone else just wears sweatpants or school issued stuff."

"Like varsity jackets?" Dr. B said teasingly.

Dave cracked a bit of a grin. "Yes."

"Okay, now Caleb."

"What about him?"

"What's he look like?"

Dave felt his ears burn red. "Well most of the time he likes wearing khakis. He thinks they're the most versatile because you can wear khaki shorts or khaki pants and still sort of get away without looking like a slob no matter what your shirt looks like. He's got brown hair, but when I first met him I thought it was sort of orangey or reddish but when I asked him about it he said it gets that way in the summer time. It's always in his face and he gets haircuts all the time but never cuts it short enough so that it's not a problem for a while. Um, his eyes are real nice, and when he's excited about something and laughing he scrunches them up a lot so I don't even know how he can see. He's got freckles here," Dave explained, gesturing across the bridge of his nose with his hand, "but not like, all over his face and stuff like a lot of people with freckles usually have. Just those. He's about my height, he's in good shape so he's smaller than me, like, he's kind of skinny but I mean still solid, you know? He plays lacrosse, that's why."

Dr. B was doing a very good job of hiding a small smile.

"Excellent. How are you feeling now, Dave?"

The student looked down at his hands, which had stopped messing with the clay some time ago. He put the red back into it's bin and pulled out the yellow- content. He began to roll it smoothly between his palms. "I'm doing ok."

"Good. Okay let's go back to Kurt. Tell me about some of his favorite things."

"Clothes, I guess," Dave began with a shrug. "Definitely singing and dancing," he added. "And I know he likes French because my old friend Azimio always complained about how he actually paid attention in class and like, no one else cared."

Dr. B nodded, waiting for him to continue. "That's it," Dave finished lamely.

The therapist flicked through some papers again in Dave's file. "You mentioned once that Kurt had a brief stint on the football team?"

"Yeah," Dave answered. "But he quit because everyone was an ass to him in the locker rooms and stuff."

"But for all you know Kurt may have loved football, right?"

"I guess so," Dave shrugged. "He's a great kicker and he was really, and I mean really proud when he won that game."

Dr. B agreed. "And we also know that we worked at his father's car shop?"

"Yeah, that's where I first met him actually. When my mom needed her breaks fixed. That was the summer before high school."

"So we can also wonder if cars or mechanics may be counted among Kurt's favorite things."

Dave bit his lip. "That's probably likely. I think I know where this is going."

Dr. B smiled at him. "Well then let's continue. Caleb's favorite things please?"

"Yellow peppers, out of the colored bell peppers, I mean. He prefers the yellow ones because they're sweeter. Definitely loves lacrosse, hates hockey but his skating is improving. Probably not one of his favorite things though. Writing, for sure. His English teacher in high school was apparently a big part of his life. Oh, when he was in middle school he would go visit his elementary school teachers because it made him feel really important when they would introduce him to the little kids and say things like 'Caleb used to be in my class when he was your age and now he's in _eighth grade_,' and then he'd have all these second graders or whatever looking at him like he's God." Dave laughed. "He likes working with little kids, and he wants to teach, but he wants to teach high schoolers because he wants to be able to help them out like his old teacher did. His favorite class right now, according to him, is Intro to Education, but I think he only said that because I'm in that class and we can tolerate it together. His favorite animal is dogs but he's never had one because his little sister is allergic, so last month we went to the store and found him a goldfish, because we can only have fish in our dorms. He named it Fido. I'm trying to think but I can't remember if he ever told me what his favorite color or anything was, so I guess that's all I know."

"That's fine," the therapist told him. "Now, you think you understood my point?"

"Sort of."

"Explain it to me."

"I don't really know that much about Kurt."

Dr. B inclined his head. "Well, to be honest you don't know _too much_ about Caleb either. The information you gave me is consistent with what I think we tend to know about our friends after knowing them for a short while. You tell stories, talk about family, and you notice little things about them. You've picked up a lot about Caleb, and it's clear that you are fond of him, based on how closely you seemed to have listened to and observed him. Hearing your description of Kurt however... and I want you to look at this with an open mind... I feel as though you didn't so much _like _Kurt, as you seemed to have had a bit of an obsession with him."

Dave didn't answer.

"Let's look at your first response. _What does Kurt look like?_ You told me some physical, but admittedly shallow characteristics. You focused on his choices in clothing. You began the same way with Caleb, but quickly incorporated rather specific features- the freckles, the manner in which he laughs... you are very attuned to the difference in femininity and masculinity between both Kurt and Caleb. Tell me about that."

"I don't know," David said. "I didn't realize it."

"Well, when you think about how flamboyant Kurt's manner of dressing was, what do you think about?"

"I used to get so annoyed," Dave admitted. "It's like, we all knew he was gay, so why did he have to keep amping it up? I didn't want it rubbed in my face that he was so out there, and I was feeling so freaking scared all the time. And then I'm thinking, great, so if I _am _gay, am I supposed to go around dressing like that? It pissed me off because I don't want any part of that, skirts or fancy shirts or whatever. I'm gay, but I'm still _me."_

"I know. And Kurt is gay and he's still him."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I guess that didn't make much sense. I'm just saying that Kurt's manner of dressing isn't what defines him as gay. He is, and he also enjoys the clothes that he enjoys. It's just another aspect of his character. Now, I know there's more to your emotions in dealing with Kurt. Let's continue."

"It's like..." Dave began, flustering for the right way to phrase whatever he was going to say.

"Don't censor yourself, David. Just say whatever you want. I'm not judging."

"He would just walk past me sometimes, in the hallways, and I'd feel like, I was so mad at him for making himself this huge stereotype, and at the same time, I _wanted it so bad."_

"Wanted what?"

"Just the knowing, I guess. He was so sure of himself, and sometime's I'd... I'd get hard and then I was so jealous and annoyed and at the same time I'm trying to figure out, if this is pissing me off so much, why do I like it?"

"It's normal to have a response like that David, even if you're not head-over-heels for a person. In fact, young men frequently have erections at inappropriate times. They aren't all because you're sexually aroused. They are a product of blood flow and hormones, both of which can be affected if you're nervous or embarrassed or in a multitude of different situations."

"I know, I took health."

"So why would that make you panic?"

"Because I didn't want him to have that kind of control over me!"

"Have you ever been aroused because of Caleb?" Dr. B asked seriously.

Dave felt his ears burn again. "Yes," he said quietly.

"And does that make you feel like he's controlling you?"

"No, because I really like him. And it feels good to think about him instead of terrifying and frustrating."

Dr. B smiled again. "I think we can agree then, that your feelings for Kurt were much different than your feelings for Caleb that you have now. As I said earlier, I believe that Kurt became a focal point for your frustration and anger when you were in high school because you were dealing with so many other things. It's not a matter of if you were attracted to him or not, but rather the simple fact that he was an easy target."

"I don't see what this has to do with me being abusive or not."

Dr. Bevotti leaned forward in his desk. "David, in high school some kids are assholes. They're the bully. That was you. You found a target and took out your own insecurities on him because you felt badly about yourself. You got yourself so twisted around in your own thoughts and emotions that you couldn't keep your head straight. This happens. Domestic abusers look for someone who they can make reliant on them. They like the feeling of power and manipulation. They want to be the one constantly in control of the other person's actions."

"See, when you say stuff like that it doesn't make me feel better. I just told you I didn't like the control issues!"

"Actually, you specifically said 'I didn't want him to have that kind of control over me.' There is a difference between wanting control over yourself and wanting to control ever move and action of someone else. You threatened Kurt. Yes. For yourself. Your situation with Kurt is an awful circumstance of bullying, and yes, it was abusive, but I am telling you, David, _you are not a bad person_. Do you believe me?"

"I'm trying to."

"That's all I can ask. Alright, let's discuss some methods for you to redirect your anger. Why do you believe you were so quick to shove that student the other night?"

"I was already feeling so on edge," Dave admitted. "Caleb was telling me that I was ignoring him, and I know I was, because sometimes he just _says things _and he doesn't even know they upset me, because how could he, since I haven't told him anything yet, and when I told him to drop it he said I was being mean. I know that sounds so juvenile because whatever, right? But I'm trying _so hard _to be a good person and to treat him right and I really want him to like me, and then he's like 'oh you're such a mean person to me.' So when that guy showed up and decided to interfere I was suddenly so pissed off and frustrated that I just turned around and went after him and it was just... I hated that feeling. I felt like I was back in high school again."

"It sounds, Dave, like we need to return to one of our basic principles here. Which is..."

"Communication."

"That's right. We were able to work on your situation with your dad because you got to the point where you felt comfortable discussing your sexuality with your father. Right now, if you want to pursue a relationship with Caleb, you need to be ready to communicate with him about your past, and about what's going on in the present. Otherwise, if something he says or does bothers you, and you can't tell him why, he won't be aware of it building in you until something like this occurs. Communication is key to any relationship, and I think it is especially important for you."

Dave nodded. "I know. I want to talk to him about things, but I'm worried."

"That he won't want to be around you?"

"Yeah."

"Dave, it's true that anxiety, anger, depression, suicide... these are all words that tend to cause people to put up barriers. Good people though, work through their own hesitance in order to help those that they care about. You believe that Caleb is a good person?"

"One of the best," Dave answered fondly.

"Then you need to speak to him. Here's what I propose, because we're running out of time. Take this weekend with your dad. Do something fun and get your mood up again. I'm going to prescribe you a lowered dose of the medication you are already on. If it's making you feel too jittery, that may be exacerbating the frustration that you're already dealing with. As far as addressing your anger goes, try to learn to respond- not react." He opened a file cabinet and pulled a photocopied sheet of paper from a folder.  
"This is an article that was publised by Web M.D. I'm not usually the biggest fan of their suggestions, but this was a good overview of learning to manage some anger. Review it and try to be open to adopting some of these tactics. Also, take my card-"

"I already have one,"

"take it, and hang onto it. When you speak to Caleb, give it to him and let him know that if he needs me to explain something to him, or if he wants to talk, I will happily chat with him over the phone for no charge. I will not divulge any of _your _personal information, but I can talk to him as an informed party, should he have any concerns. Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah," Dave answered, nodding. He tossed the ball of yellow between his hands like a baseball, and stood up. He squished it back into its tub and crossed the floor to the therapist's desk to take the card. He pocketed it, then stuck out a hand for the doctor to shake. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling now?"

"Still yellow," Dave answered. "I'm going to have lunch with my dad, and we're going to go see a game tonight. It should be a good time."

"Enjoy it."

"I will, thanks." Dave went to the door, and was halfway out when Dr. Bevotti called out to him again.

"And David?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck with Caleb. He sounds like a nice guy and I'm happy for you."

Dave blushed and bit his lips. "Thanks."

* * *

Dave exited the office building through the large glass doors, tucking his hands into his pockets as he felt the cool November wind bluster by. He scanned the parking lot for his dad's familiar car, spotting it a short way down to his right. He made his way toward it looked in through the window to see his dad's seat reclined, the man asleep with his hands behind his head. He felt a stab of guilt for making his father drive out to Bowling Green and back so suddenly last night just for him. He pulled the handle of the door, startling Paul awake. Paul ran a hand over his face, clearing his head before he reached for the switch on the door and flicked it to unlock. Dave opened the door.

"Sorry, Dad."

"Don't be, Son. How'd it go?"

"Good. I feel better."

"Anything you want to chat about?"

Dave fastened his seatbelt as his dad put the car in drive and began to pull out of the parking space. "We talked about Kurt some more."

"Again?"

"Mhm. And, um, Caleb."

"That kid in your Education class? What for?"

"Well he and I have been sort of hanging out, like, a lot."

"Hanging out, like, dating?"

"Not yet."

Paul took his eyes off the road for a second to look at his son, who was smiling to himself and tapping his fingers on his knee. Focusing again, he asked, "Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah. We need to bring what's left of my meds to the pharmacist so they can get rid of them, and Dr. B sent them a new dosage for them to give me. Down from 200 to 75mg. He said to call every day just to check in for a week or so though."

"He lowered it, despite this situation you've got now?"

"We decided that this situation wasn't really because of anxiety. He said maybe if they weren't making me so jittery and self-conscious, I might have less to get frustrated about. We're going to focus on some calming techniques to try and help me handle things when I get angry."

Paul nodded. "We used to let you beat out tantrums against the couch cushions," he said.

"Really? huh. No, well we're going to try some less physical things."

"Sounds reasonable."

"I'm hungry," Dave changed the topic as his stomach growled.

Paul laughed. "Breadstix sound good?"

"Definitely."

* * *

Note: Hey again. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and a look inside Dave's appointment with his therapist.

I'd like to ask you guys for your thoughts and prayers regarding my mom. Her situation with cancer is not very good and she's currently at a very important appointment with her doctor. I'm really worried about her.

Thank you, please review and follow me on tumblr! **Perpetuating-pez**

-darkestAngel13


	8. Friends, Dating, and the Cracker Barrel

A/N: Welcome to chapter eight. Hope you enjoy- please review! Nothing you recognize is mine.

* * *

Dave had one foot tucked up under him on the couch and the other extended out in front of him, resting on the coffee table as he balanced a bowl of popcorn on his thigh. His father had taken up residence in his usual large armchair and they were both engrossed in the NCAA football game that was on its way to the second quarter. The doorbell rang and Dave put up a hand, gesturing to his father that he'd answer it. He wiped his salty, buttery hands on his jeans before he reached out and pulled the doorknob, swinging the door open.

"He- llo?" His voice stuttered when he recognized just who was standing on his doorstep.

"Hey," Azimio grunted, looking down at his shoes. "Can we talk?"

Dave looked over his shoulder into the living room, where Paul was watching them with suspicious eyes. "I guess so," Dave agreed. He stepped back, allowing his old friend to come into the house. "Kitchen," he muttered.

The two ambled their way toward the specified room and Dave noted that his father conveniently turned up the volume on the television, granting them an illusion of privacy.  
"What?" He began bluntly, not bothering to be any sort of polite.

His questions was answered with a shrug. "Y'know, just... Where you been, Man?" Azimio asked as he sat himself down on one of the barstools.

"Excuse me?"

Azimio hunched his shoulders. "I ain't seen you since the hospital... And then Rick texts me today and says he seen you at Breadstix with your dad and I decided I should-"

"Beat me up?" Dave interrupted sardonically.

"No, man! I just wanted to talk to you, is that so crazy?"

"Um, like you said- the last time you saw me was at the hospital. And we didn't exactly part on friendly terms, so forgive me if yes, I think you're crazy."

"Look, I thought you were dead!" Azimio shouted, jumping to his feet and shoving a finger in Dave's face. "What d'you think that's like, having my mom call me outta class to tell me you're under watch at the hospital 'cuz you were dumb enough to put a fuckin' noose around your neck!"

Dave crammed his hands deep into his pockets, refusing to break eye contact with Azimio as he shouted.

"And then I look at Facebook, with this creepy hope that you at least wrote a message or something, and instead I find everyone calling my best friend a faggot, and I think 'nah, not my friend D.K. I'd have known.' But nope- you say 'it's true, Zim' and what, in supposed to be cool with that?"

"Yes!" Dave erupted. He froze, caught himself, thinking _'respond: don't react.'_  
He hefted a breath and said much more calmly, "The _least_ you could have been was _cool with it_. I can't control this, Zim, and I know it was a shock, but how do you think that made me feel? You were my best friend!"

"Man, you know what the bible says about this stuff?"

"Oh do _not_ preach to me about all that. Because you cared so much about what the bible said when you were soliciting blow jobs under the bleachers junior year?"

"That was sophomore year," Azimio muttered.

Dave couldn't help but give a short laugh. Then he sobered. "Why are you even here, Zim?"

Azimio sat back down on the barstool. He kicked his feet up under it, hooking his ankles around the legs in a long-familiar motion. "Where you been, Man?" He asked, just as he had earlier. "You disappeared. No one said they'd seen you, and I thought that-"

Dave couldn't believe it when he heard the slight hitch in Azimio's voice. "I thought maybe you'd done it for real, and nobody'd even told me, 'cuz they thought we wasn't cool."

"Zim, I-" Dave paused. He pulled a kitchen chair around, straddling it backward to face his old friend. "Man, I've been at school. I'm ok- look at me," he said firmly, causing Azimio to pull his head up. "I'm dorming at Bowling Green. It's awesome, Man. I actually made it out of here. I'm not... I'm still alive, Zim."

"Your Facebook stopped updating." "I know, I made a different one. It's got like, six friends, but whatever. I'm being more careful about who I let into my business. Last year I had about 2,000 people on my friends list, you know? And when everything happened, I had these people shouting at me and calling me things and telling me to try again, and I'm looking at them like, 'you don't know me, and you have the guts to say something like that to me? You're fucked up enough that some guy you don't even know... You legit want him dead?' So I didn't even bother to delete it. If they want to call me faggot or whatever else, I don't care. maybe they'll get it out of their system instead of going after someone else."

"I never wanted you dead, Dave."

"You just wanted me straight."

Azimio shook his head. "I just wanted my best friend back," he admitted.

"I didn't leave!" Dave protested, feeling like a cheesy daytime drama. "I mean, I'm at school, so I'm not_ here_, but I was never like, 'oh, better be gay and lose all my friends.' _You_ made the decision to walk away."

"I'm sorry."

"Really?"

"I swear." Azimio said solemnly. "I've never... I don't know how to be friends with a gay dude-"

"You did fine for sixteen years," Dave interrupted bitterly.

"But imma_ try_, a'ight?" Azimio finished firmly.

Dave sighed, putting his head down into his hand. "So what have you been up to?" He asked finally.

"Courses at the community college. It's like fuckin' thirteenth grade."

"Sucks."

"So you're at Bowling Green? What's that like?"

"Pretty nice. The independence is cool."

"So what are you doing back, is this like, Jew holidays or something?"

"No. I needed to see my doctor."

"You good?"

"I'm good." Dave swung one leg awkwardly in the silence. "You wanna watch the game?" He asked finally.

"Sure."

The two made their way back to the living room where the football game still blared and Paul lounged comfortably in his Lay-z-boy. They threw themselves into their respective places on the couch, immediately reaching for a handful of popcorn each, as Azimio greeted Mr. Karofsky.

"Hey, Mr. K," he said.

"Good to see you again, Azimio."

The latter nodded, tossing the popcorn into his mouth.

Dave made himself comfortable again, pulling his leg up underneath himself. "Are we still winning?"

* * *

**Sunday, November 3rd**

After spending the rest of Friday night watching football, and all of Saturday catching up in general, Dave and Azimio were feeling as though there had never been a rift in their friendship, while at the same time tentatively walking on eggshells. Each time they broke up into laughter over a joke or reminder of something from the past, the two sobered quickly, as though they weren't entitled to the same free spirit they had had before Dave's unintentional coming out.  
As it was, the two were now sharing a semi-awkward silence as they drove along the highway back toward Bowling Green. Paul had woken up that morning with a migraine, leaving Dave to wonder how he was supposed to get back to campus without his father for a ride, when he recalled the "congratulations on graduating" car that Azimio mentioned. Before he knew it, he was dialing a long-remembered number and asking for a favor.

"What exit is it?" Azimio asked again.

"Two after this one. There's a sign."

"So, what's your roommate like."

"He's cool. You'd probably get along. We should grab dinner or something before you have to drive back. And let me go to the bank or something, I want to give you gas money."

Azimio shook his head negatively, then looked over his shoulder to merge into the next lane. "Don't worry about it. If I hadn't been an idiot I'd have probably been driving you around all summer anyway, so this just makes up for it."

"I'll cover dinner then or something."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. So you're roommate's cool with, you know, gay stuff then?"

"It's new to him," Dave admitted. "I came out to him the first day and he said he'd never met anyone gay, but he's been awesome." His phone buzzed. Unknowingly, he smiled, and immediately began texting back.

"That your dad?"

"No, Caleb."

"Your roommate?"

Dave looked up. "No. Nico's my roommate. Caleb's a friend of mine. I'm going to ask him if he wants to get dinner with us. Exit here."

"Sure."

Several turns later found them rolling into the Bowling Green Campus. Dave gave directions until they pulled into a parking lot just outside of his residence hall.

"Nice place," Azimio commented.

"Yeah I love it," Dave answered, grabbing his bag from the backseat and slamming the car doors closed. They headed up the sidewalk toward the entrance. "You going to transfer somewhere like this after thirteenth grade?"

"I dunno. I don't want to stay in Lima, but stuff like this is expensive."

"Still working at the Kroger?"

"Yeah. I swear I get like ten papercuts a day 'cuz I'm bagging groceries for little old ladies too fast."

"Ah, sacrifice. You should apply for some scholarships though. Nico said he qualified for a bunch just because he's African American."

"I'll think about it."

Dave swiped his school ID at the door, waiting for the click that signified the unlock. "I figured we'd hang with Nico for a bit, then meet Caleb in about half an hour and we can go to Cracker Barrel."

"Sounds good."

The elevator pinged and the two stepped out on the third floor. "I thought college was like, mad loud?" Azimio asked.

"Well, it's Sunday afternoon, so everyone's basically finishing all the work that they put off on Friday and Saturday. Besides, it's not like people actually party in the halls. It'd be way to easy to get caught."

"I feel like I'm in a hotel."

Dave led the way to his room and smoothly unlocked and open the door.

"'Sup, Nico?" He greeted, gesturing Azimio to follow me. "My buddy Azimio drove me up here and we're gunna go to Cracker Barrel. Want to come?"

Nico swung his legs down off his bed, pulling his ever-present headphones down around his neck. He stood up to shake hands with Azimio. "Awesome. Hey, you feeling better, Man?" he asked David.

"Yeah, I'm glad I went back for the weekend. Good to be back though." Dave's phone buzzed again and he looked down, typing away. Meanwhile, Azimio caught sight of one of the posters hanging on Nico's side of the room and the two began a conversation about the shared interest.

"Hey Zim, you good here for a bit? I'm going to go meet Caleb and then we'll head back here before we get dinner."

"Yeah, we'll just talk about you while you're gone," Azimio answered.

"Considering you just met a moment ago, I have no doubt that that is exactly what will happen. Just be nice."

"_You _be nice, Karofsky. Tell Caleb I said 'hey!'" Nico called after him as he left the room.

Dave left the residence hall, keeping his hands warm under his arms as he crossed the courtyard and made his way to Caleb's building. He waited awkwardly in the breezeway for his friend to let him in. Not long later, Caleb appeared, jogging to the door to open it. Dave couldn't help it- as soon as the door was open he swept Caleb up into a hug, burying one hand into the soft brown hair and pulling his other arm around Caleb's waist.

"Hey," they both greeted each other.

"How are you?" Caleb asked seriously as he took a step back. He looked Dave over with a critical eye and led the way to his own dorm room.

"I'm good," Dave answered. "I got some changes made to my medication and had a really useful chat with my doctor on Friday. There's some important stuff that I want to talk to you about, but I thought maybe we could do that later, after we grab dinner with Nico and Zim."

"What time did you want to go?"

"Half an hour?"

They came to Caleb's room and walked in. There was no other roommate present. "I missed you this weekend," Caleb hedged.

Dave felt something hot sink into his lower belly. He grinned. "Me too," he answered.

"Are you tired at all from the drive here?"

"Meh, car-groggy," Dave shrugged. "Not like, exhausted or anything."

Caleb bit his lip. He kicked off his shoes and rolled onto his bed, where he settled himself on his side. "So what'd you do all weekend?" He shuffled backward, leaving a space open on the bed as a purposeful hint. Dave caught on. Shucking his own shoes and pulling off his jacket, he laid down beside Caleb, turning them over into the position that they had been in just a few days previously. He folded his right arm up under his head so that he rested on the fold of his forearm and elbow. Caleb tucked comfortably back against his torso.

"Um, spent a lot of Friday with Dr. Bevotti, got new meds and had lunch out with my dad. You'll notice I'm already less fidgety," he said proudly. "Friday night was weird because Zim showed up at my house suddenly wanting to be my friend again, which is cool, but weird and whatever. I'm working on it. Watched a lot of football with dad, but he was sick this morning. What did you do around here?"

"Well," Caleb began, rolling over in Dave's grasp so they were now nearly nose to nose, "First I worried about you because you know, that whole ordeal was concerning, and I'm looking forward to talking to you about it. Friday was class and that sucked, nothing really happened, and basically just a reminder to work on our essay due for midterms in Intro to Education. Saturday I went to the gym for a while because we always go skating, but I didn't want to skate alone and look like an idiot so I just did some cardio. I saw some flyers for a lacrosse club that wants to meet indoors during the winter and put my name on the list. And, well, today's today. You're back."

Dave pulled his courage together and lowered his head infinitesimally to press a kiss to the corner of Caleb's mouth, closer to the cheek than a proper kiss. "I'm glad I'm back."

* * *

Their waitress dropped their drinks off at the table, agreeing to come back soon to take their dinner order.

"So let me get this right. You don't like football _or _hockey? Why are you even friends with Dave?" Azimio asked Caleb from across the table. Dave felt the back of Caleb's knuckles draw casually against the outside of his thigh under the table. He subtly dropped his own hand from where it rested on the table and allowed it to sit on the bench between them. Soon enough he felt his fingers interlace with Caleb's. "Hey, just because we spent our entire childhood on those two topics doesn't mean I'm not capable of anything else," Dave defended.

Azimio shook his head, never having spent time with a guy his own age that didn't like at least one if not both of his favorite sports. "You do play _something_ though, right?"

"I'm an impressive lacrosse player if I do say so myself. Oh, and in middle school I joined the soccer team, but not because I was actually into it."

"Why bother then?" Nico inquired.

Caleb shrugged. "Coach Ken was hot," he answered nonchalantly.

In sync, Dave and Azimio coughed into their drinks.

Nico, however, nodded appreciatively and reached over to offer a fistbump. "Bro, I took swimming in high school just because the instructor was at least a Double D. Smelling like chlorine all semester was totally worth it."

Azimio made a slashing motion in the air with his hands. "Hang on hang on I'm missing something," he interrupted, looking at Caleb closely. "You're homo too?"

Dave kicked his old friend under the table, _hard._

_"Ow,_ Man, fuck you!"

"No, Zim, fuck _you._ You suck."

Nico watched the waitress approach their table and shook his head at her, directing her elsewhere. She smoothly changed course with a wink as the argument swelled.

"Look, I'm just saying why am I so bad at figuring out-"

Caleb cut into the argument. "First of all, yes I am gay and I'd like to take this opportunity to ask that you don't refer to people as 'homo' unless you follow it immediately with 'sexual,' and only intend it in a descriptive- not offensive, manner. Second, Maybe you couldn't tell that Dave or I is gay because we're really just regular guys. Yeah, some men are more effeminate or fit the stereotype more accurately, but just because neither of us lisps or does ballet doesn't make us any less gay. You don't have to go through life categorizing every guy you meet- it shouldn't matter."

Azimio looked properly chastised while equal parts curious and confused. "_Sorry_," he said with emphasis. Suddenly his eyes widened, almost comically. "Bro, are you two _dating?" _he exclaimed, noting their adjacent hands hidden beneath the table. "You holdin' hands with a dude in the Cracker Barrel?"

Dave heard the two parts shock and one part teasing in Azimio's tone and bit his lips, feeling his ears turn red. "Nah, we're not dating," he said quietly.

"Officially," Caleb added. "Not dating _officially_."

Azimio made a sour face.

"Um, you ok?" Dave asked hesitantly. Forty-eight hours into their friendship reunion wasn't exactly the ideal time to introduce a sort-of-almost boyfriend. Azimio held up his menu, said "'scuse us," and effectively blocked Nico and Caleb from a conversation between himself and David.

"D.K. are you _fucking around?"_ he said in a hush. Clearly the brotherhood involved with scoring a relationship wasn't tarnished over the course of the past few months.

"No! We're just hanging out and we like each other," Dave answered just as quietly.

Azimio suddenly looked bored. "Are you eight years old?"

"What? No."

"Then why aren't you dating him 'officially?'" he asked, using airquotes.

"He doesn't know everything about what happened last year," Dave admitted. "I'm gunna talk to him about it tonight."

"Oh. Ok."

"Excuse us, Ladies," Nico interrupted, and Azimio bristled. They lowered the menu partition and found the waitress watching them expectantly. With that, discussion of sexualities and relationships ceased for the remainder of their time at Cracker Barrel.

At a point, Dave realized that his hand, still joined with Caleb's, was suddenly resting atop the table instead of below it. He was glad for his left-handedness, which made eating one handed the furthest thing from problematic. He knew, in the rational half of his brain, that Azimio was not suddenly fine with homosexuality, but his old friends was remaining good on his word and trying. Conversation flowed with ease throughout their dinner; together, they made quite the quartet. Dave could see himself hanging out like this often. He felt happy.

* * *

Note:  
Hey everyone :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter will be a time jump forward by a few weeks. Likely cerca Thanksgiving.

On a personal note, my mom has been in and out of the hospital the last couple weeks. Continued thoughts and prayers for her recovery are appreciated. We all hate cancer.

Thanks for reading, please review!

Love,  
darkestAngel13


	9. Desperate and Pathetic

A/N: Don't kill me! Sorry, I know it's been over a month and I swore I'd never do that! Anyway, here's this quick chapter and I'll work on putting more together soon! *Disclaimer* I don't own anything

* * *

After speaking to Caleb about his circumstances, Dave felt that their friendship had, well, not exactly changed, but more like shifted. There weren't any more shared naps, nor 'almost kisses,' but hand-holding had become more than occasional between the two. Thanksgiving, which found Dave back in Lima for a long weekend with his father, had come and gone, and midterms were a thing of the past already. Quicker than he had ever imagined, Christmas was approaching and Dave was about to complete his first semester as a college student.

He closed his textbook, leaving a post-it on the page where he left off, checked the time on his phone and then grabbed a sweatshirt and knit cap from his closet. Pulling them on, he patted his pockets for wallet, keys, phone, then left the dorm to meet Caleb in the courtyard.  
Dave had never asked if Caleb used the card he gave him to call Dr. Bevotti, and the therapist told him that by law he would not discuss whether or not he had. Dave assumed the other two had spoken- after all, Caleb had been remarkably casual about it, always knowing what to say and seemingly catching himself before making any potentially off-color jokes or comments.

Azimio had only been back to visit once, when there was a particularly good football game being played at the stadium and Caleb, who didn't want to go, offered to use his ID to get a free ticket that Azimio could use. Yes, right now Dave was happier than he'd been in ages, which was why he was disappointed to realize that he was no longer looking forward to Christmas.

Finally, the whirring of automatic doors startled Dave out of his thoughts and a grin split his face as Caleb stepped out.

"Hey," they greeted one another.

"Got your stuff?"

"Yep," Caleb gestured to his own skates which had been purchased a few weeks previous- they were now slung over his shoulder.

"You know you can just keep those in my locker," Dave offered.

"Hm," Caleb considered it. "That'd probably be convenient. Wouldn't have to lug them back and forth that way."

"Mhm."

They each kept their hands to themselves, tucked securely in pockets to avoid the cold Ohio winter.  
"Can I ask you something?" Dave queried.

"Sure thing."

"I'm not sure if it's kind of rude."

"Just _ask_, David."

Dave bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, the winter holidays are kind of long," he began.

Caleb smiled to himself. "I'm aware. Next Thursday til January 28th. That's more than a month."

"Uh-huh," Dave agreed. "So there's sort of two issues I'm dealing with. First, um, when I talked to my dad yesterday, he said he's been talking to my mom a lot recently... And after thanksgiving apart, well, they want to spend Christmastime together, so my mom'll be back at my dad's house. He said she swore she'd be, y'know, civil, since it's the holidays, but still."

Caleb nodded in understanding, reached out and opened the entrance to the athletic center.  
Dave thanked him, walked in, and continued airing his grievances.

"So that might be hella awkward... But anyway the other problem is that I thought it'd be kind of cool we could hang out a bit over the break, since well, it's a long break."

Caleb cut him off with a laugh and a tug on his arm. "Dave, you don't have to justify wanting to spend time together during break. I thought it went unsaid, and I was sort of already expecting us to. I guess I don't see what has you thinking this conversation is rude."

Dave smiled. "I know, I know. Here goes. Basically I was thinking, I'm only going to be able to handle so much of my mother. And as much as she hates me, she still loves my dad and they've been together for twenty something years so they deserve to be able to spend time together without me being a problem."  
He continued talking quickly as Caleb tried to interrupt saying something like 'you're not a problem'.

"So anyway, the rude part comes when I invite myself to spend the second half of the break at your place," he finished in one breath.

Caleb stopped walking and looked at him, studying his face carefully. "Well I'd have to ask my parents," he began.

"Oh, right," Dave muttered, ducking his head a bit.

"That doesn't mean no," Caleb assured him. "I honestly don't know if we're having guests or something, so I'd need to see if we'll have room."

"I could take a couch," Dave said hurriedly, but then he put a hand to his forehead. "That sounded really desperate and pathetic, I'm sorry."

The pair of them detoured to a small corridor near some waterfountains, where no one was milling around. "You're really torn up about this, aren't you?" Caleb asked quietly.

"She_ hates_ me," Dave whispered. "And I'm finally feeling _really good_, I don't want to be stuck with her for sixty days treating me like I'm better off dead."

"Oh, Man..." Caleb sighed and leaned against the wall, very close to the other man. "Look, I'll call home tomorrow and ask. If it seems like we're going to have a full house then you can just bunk with me."

"Your parents would be okay with that?"

Caleb raised an eyebrow and smirked. "That depends. Am I inviting a friend who needs a place to crash for a few weeks? Or,"

"Or what?"

"Orrrr, am I asking if my new boyfriend can share my bed for a month?" Caleb finished with a tongue-in-cheek tone and David admired the flit of mischief across his freckled face.

"I kind of like the second one," Dave said with a shy grin.

"Me too, but it's much less likely to get us parental permission."

"How ok are your parents with the idea of you having a boyfriend?"

"On a scale 1-10? I dunno. 7? How okay is any parent with having their kid date? They've sort of been expecting it for a while, it's not like they're in denial, so. I guess like most parents they won't care much as long as nothing inappropriate is going on."

"Would the odds of permission be better if we could promise to keep things appropriate then?"

"Like I said, Dave. It's really just a matter of if we have the space. I'm sure my mom won't have a problem with you coming for a while."

David smiled, feeling a weight on his shoulders lessen a bit. "Ok. Can we skate now?"

Caleb nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Note: Okay, some of you might be curious, but basically things aren't so great in my world. Mom's admittedly very sick, but we try our best to continue on as normally as possible. We've had lots of family visiting which is nice, but in the back of your mind you sort of know that everyone's visiting because they think it might be their last chance to. This is really a painful thing to deal with. On top of all this, I'm leaving to go to England in about a month and I'll be gone until December. Obviously, I'm spending as much time with my mom and family as possible.

For years now, fanfiction has gotten me through a lot. That sounds silly, but I escape here the same way that I do by reading Harry Potter or other books, or throw myself into TV or movies. On this site, I can explore alternate universes (almost literally, haha) and even create my own. With all this stress though, I've been finding it easier to read rather than write, which is why I've been so slow in updating this. Hopefully I'll be able to force myself to focus a bit more. Please stay tuned!

-darkestAngel13


	10. Family Matters

**A/N:**  
**Hello all, there is a long and relevant note at the end of this chapter, please read it!**

* * *

**Monday, December 23rd**

Dave held the cursor hovering over the small gray "submit" button as he watched the time click down on the lower left corner of his computer screen. When the numbers switched from 2:59:59 to 3:00:00pm, he swiftly clicked the mouse and watched the webpage reload with different information. His newly posted grade report appeared with his name and personal information at the top. Swiftly, he scrolled through the pages of symbols and paragraphs he didn't care about before coming to a short list of completed courses and the few simple letters that accompanied them.

"Dad!" He shouted enthusiastically over his shoulder. His laptop was perched on the island in the kitchen and he stood leaning his arms against the cool granite counter top.

"Dad!" He called again.

"He ran out for some milk," the voice of his mother replied softly as she padded awkwardly into the room from the den. Her thick socks had muffled her footsteps as she crossed the house and Dave jumped a bit at her close proximity.

"Oh. Ok," he answered.

Mrs. Karofsky went to the cabinet and pulled a glass down, then began to fill it with water from the tap. Dave knew it was just something to do to fill the space, because when his mother was actually thirsty she always used filtered water from the pitcher in the fridge.

"Is there something you needed from him?"

"Um, no," Dave told her. He didn't have much desire to actually converse with the woman. He'd managed to avoid being alone together like this so far during the twenty days that they'd been under the same roof.

"It sounded like you needed something," she pressed, argumentatively.

"_No_, actually, I don't," he said, already losing patience. "I just wanted to show him something."

"You could show your mother, David," she said, sounding irritated with him as she thrust her hip to one side and set the full glass down with a sloshing_ clack_!

"Yeah, well, let me know when she's around," he answered bitterly. He slammed the screen of his laptop closed, gritting his teeth when he realized that was probably a bad idea, but he tucked the thing under his arm and stalked out of the kitchen, intending to hide out in his room until his father came home.

"You're only hurting yourself, David Elijah! You're disobeying your own mother and you're disobeying God!"

Dave seethed and spun around.

"God?" He asked furiously. "What does God have to say about mothers who walk out on their kids when they're in a hospital? Probably not a whole lot of praise for them, don't you agree? But you know what? There's something called_ forgiveness_," he said emphatically. "And if there's anything I learned after years of Sunday school and bible study and _'live up to your name, David Elijah's,'_ then it's that the God I believe in _loves_ me, and _forgives_ me for the shit I do. And if you're going to be pissed at me because I'm gay, then be pissed at Him, because he made me this way."

The front door suddenly opened and Paul called out a jovial "It's me!" as he entered the house. He kicked snow from the bottom of his shoes onto the entry mat and seemed to realize that he had entered an environment as chilly as the one outdoors. Coming into the middle of the standoff between his wife and son he demanded "What happened now?"

Dave grit his teeth. "Nothing, Dad. Just thinking I might head out to Caleb's a little earlier than planned," But he felt his stomach twist as his father's face fell.

"David, it's Christmas Eve tomorrow. Please."

Hot guilt ate away at Dave and he felt his eyes burn hearing Paul's voice break.

"We'll see," he said stiffly, and he hitched the laptop again against his side, adjusting his grip.

"I'll be upstairs." He turned and was halfway up the flight when he remembered. "Hey," he called back down. "By the way, I made a 3.87 GPA for my first semester of college ever. Only got a B in one class and I was kind of expecting it because I totally bombed a major essay for that professor."

"Proud of you, Son," Paul's voice floated back up the stairs. "Keep it up!"

Dave nodded to himself and trudged the rest of the way to his bedroom, where he placed his computer gently on the desk and tossed himself onto his bed. He closed his eyes, wondering if he really should call Caleb when the sound of raised voices drifted to his ears through the heating vents in the hardwood floor.

"...right does he have to lecture me about God in my own damn house!?"

"You left! He's been here, and now that you're back this is his territory and you can't expect him to not be defensive!"

"Territory? So now he's an animal! What have you been putting into his head, Paul?"

"You are being entirely too sensitive right now."

"This is not about being sensitive! This is about your son having the gall to tell me that I'm a bad Christian! Talk about honoring thy mother!"

"It was your decision to raise him Christian, MaryAnn. I daresay whatever he learned is probably something you instilled in him early on."

"My son wasn't a sick menace to society!"

"You know he attends Sunday service even while he's at school? When was the last time you went to mass, MaryAnn?"

"So now you think I'm a sinner?" She scoffed as though the very thought were ridiculous.

Dave strained his ears to hear his father's reply.

"I'm thinking that if the only reason you're neglecting and emotionally abusing the bright, loving son that we raised together is out of some misguided understanding you've gleaned from a book or a Sunday school lecture... Well maybe it's just not truly as important to you as what you're missing out on."

"And tell me, Paul, just what am I missing out on?"

"Our son!" Paul roared angrily and Dave crammed headphones over his ears to drown out the shouting match as it peaked and tempers rose. He felt tears in his throat and on his cheeks as his father tried desperately to defend him. Finally he grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent a text, not to Caleb but to Azimio.

**To Azimio Adams**:_ I need u 2 come ring my doorbell nd come up with a good reason why you need me 4 something._  
**To Dave**:_ y_  
**To Azimio**: _u'll hear them shouting b4 u make it up the driveway._  
**To Dave**: _Dats right I just remembered I need u 2 help me buy a present 4 my cousin who likes hockey. B there in 3 mins._  
**To Azimio**: _thanks bro_  
**To Dave**: _np. got u man_

Dave sat up and scrubbed at his face, hoping it wouldn't look like he'd been crying. He yanked the buds from his ears, noting that the argument downstairs had shifted irrationally to involve a disagreement that was once had between the couple while on a camping trip when David was twelve. He grabbed his wallet, crammed it in his back pocket and waited impatiently for Zim to come through. Sure enough a moment later the doorbell rang and tension became thick in the house as Mrs. Karofsky put on her hostess voice and opened the door, greeting Azimio warmly as if she hadn't just been screaming herself hoarse at her husband.

"Hi Mrs. K, I was wondering if Dave was home. I need to do some last minute shopping and since he knows hockey best I figured he'd help me out."

"One moment, Honey."

And for a split second Dave flash backed to the countless times before his coming out that his mother had placed one foot on the bottom step and called out to him that one of his friends was at the door. The well practiced routine showed itself now as "David, honey, Azimio is here!" floated up to him.

Dave refused point-blank to play happy family. Rather than his tried and true "Coming, Mom!" He remained silent and thumped steadily down the steps. He did not make eye contact with his mother, nor acknowledge her presence at all as he whipped his coat from the peg near the door and headed out into the snow with Azimio at his side. He slammed the door, only feeling bad because he knew his father was alone inside with the problem he had caused.

"You ok, DK?" Azimio asked quietly.

"Yeah, Zim," Dave answered.

"Anything you want to do?"

"Not in particular."

Azimio sighed. They both got into his truck and drove the few blocks to the Adams' house.  
"Look, man, no one's home at my place. How about you go ahead and call your boy and have yourself a good fucking cry, because I know you want to, and when you're done text me and I'll be back. We'll play some black ops or whatever."

Dave shuddered a breath. "Yeah, ok. Where are you going to go?"

"I really do need a fuckin' present for my cousin, man! I just don't need you helpin' me to get it." He wrestled a house key from the lanyard hanging from the ignition.

"Seriously man, go ahead."

Dave almost broke down then and there, beyond grateful for the steadfast friendship that he and Azimio had managed to retain. He nodded and jumped out of the truck so that he could let himself into the small but empty house for an hour or so of sanctuary.

* * *

When the sound of Azimio's truck rumbling over the icy road disappeared, Dave lowered himself into a large armchair and covered his face with his hands. He scrubbed at his face with the blunt ends of his fingers, waiting for tears to come, but none did. He felt miserable, but apparently not miserable enough to cry. He looked around him at the Adams' home, feeling very awkward and out of place. He couldn't go home with his mother there to antagonize him, and he couldn't feel comfortable alone in Zim's house. He fished the phone from his pocket and with practiced ease scrolled through the contacts to Caleb's name. It rang twice before the beautiful boy answered, laughter in his voice and noisy background chatter.

"Merry Christmas, Dave!"

"Hey, you too."

"What's wrong?"

Dave bit the inside of his lip. "Nothing," he answered.

"That's bull," Caleb muttered. "Hang on a sec."

There was a muffled noise as Caleb apparently covered the mouthpiece with his hand. Dave heard the echo of footsteps and the slam of a door before Caleb was back on the line.

"Sorry, lots of people here. I'm in my own room now. Come on, what happened?"

Dave shuddered. "My mom hates me," he said, feeling his heart break as the reality struck him for once.

Caleb breathed out heavily on the other end of the call. "Oh, man..."

"I'm okay with it, seriously," Dave said desperately. "I mean we weren't always all that close but I wish she would just _like _me even if she doesn't like gay people but why can't she just see that I'm normal?!" He brushed a hand irritably though his hair. "I'm sorry. I don't want to dump this on you when you're having a good time."

"No, Dave!" Caleb said anxiously. "I _want _you to call me. Seriously. I want to be able to talk to you and listen when you need me to. Are you okay though? Do you need me to come there?"

Dave smiled slightly. "More that anything," he admitted. "But I think it would make things worse if you showed up here."

"Throwing your boyfriend into the mix doesn't really help a homophobic situation, huh?" Caleb asked sardonically.

The comment sent a thrill through David and he clenched his fingers into the fabric of his jeans at his thigh. "Yeah, my boyfriend," he answered, not quite able to believe it. He could practically hear Caleb smiling that impish smile from across the state.

"Well, are you still going to make it here? I told my little sister I have a friend coming and now she's psyched. Are you ready to be a six year old's best friend?"

Dave laughed. "Yeah, I'm coming. I'm going to try and stick it out here tonight and tomorrow for my dad and all, but as soon as I can I'll head your way. Is your little sister like the _makeovers and ballet_ kind of sister or like the _sit on your feet and hang on tight_ kind of sister?"

Caleb hmm'ed. "Kind of neither. She might ask you to braid her hair but you can just tell her no and she'll go away. Hey there's a rink not too far from my house. Maybe we could take her skating?"

"That'd be awesome. What's her name again? I don't want to mess it up."

"Annie. And my dad's Jack and mom's Cathy. You can call them Mr. and Mrs. if you want but they'll tell you first names are fine."

"Sounds good."

The conversation went quiet for a minute before Dave admitted softly, "I miss you."

Caleb sighed lightly. "You too. Hang in there, I'll see you soon. Try to have a good Christmas."

"I will, thanks. See you."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Dave looked down at his phone as the rising numbers stopped and then the screen went dark, indicating that Caleb had hung up. He clicked the screen off and tossed it on the table nearby, suddenly feeling very tired. He wondered if Azimio would mind coming home to find Dave asleep in his bed. Deciding against it, he moved from the armchair to the couch and tugged an afghan blanket from across the back of it. He settled down against the soft fabric of the couch and tucked his arm up underneath his head for a pillow. Figuring he'd go back home whenever Zim returned, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

* * *

**Hello, world. Thank you to those of you who are still reading and sticking with me.**

It breaks my heart to inform you that my mom passed away in the wee morning hours of Saturday, September 7th. I was home and awake with my sisters when we received the call. We were expecting it.

As you might assume, my story was put on hold as soon as mom started declining. The last month or so has been very hard and I was not up to writing. Further, this chapter in which Dave argues heatedly with his mom was heartbreaking to write. I hope that each of you has a chance to have a healthy relationship with your mom and/or family. If you're not making time to spend with them, change it up. Seize every moment that you have, because they become the memories that you cling to when there aren't any more chances. Attend family functions. Don't blow off birthdays or anniversaries or mothers days or fathers days to be with your friends. They have all the other days. Give your family the ones that count. Reach out to mend broken bridges. If they won't come to you, then you should try to take that first step. Maybe it won't go anywhere- or maybe you'll renew a relationship that both of you have been wanting.

With the funeral and all that behind me, I now have quite a lot of free time. I am on a leave of absence from school for the semester and I'll need something to occupy my time. That doesn't necessarily mean that this story will suddenly take off. I might come and go from it. I do want to get it finished though, so please bear with me.

Peace and love,

darkestAngel13


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